The List
by YanksLuver
Summary: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit'
1. Introduction

**Title**: The List  
**Author**: Steph  
**Rating**: PG  
**Pairing**: Robin/Patrick  
**Category**: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV**: Robin  
**Disclaimer**: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers**: Nope.  
**Summary**: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**Note**: This is the sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit'. If you didn't read that one, it's okay. This really stands alone and only makes reference to what happened between Robin and Patrick in it. This one is all about fun, humor, romance and fluff. Patrick and Robin are going to enjoy being with each other and get to know each other better. No angst! Oh and the list won't necessarily be followed in order. Most of the stuff on the list I found on to do lists on the net. I didn't make up most of it, just in case you're interested. -Steph

**--- --- The List: Introduction ---**

I collapse on top of Patrick, sighing in pleasure. After what happened on the roof, we went back to my place and made love. Then we made love again...and again.

I run my fingertips across his skin, as my head rests peacefully on his chest. His hands slowly move up and down my back, before entangling in my hair.

"Too long," I breathe. "It's been too long."

I can hear the grin in his voice. "You're telling me?"

I smile and find his hand, interlocking our fingers. "Let's never go that long again."

"Can I get that in writing?"

I slap his arm playfully, before sitting up so that I straddle his hips. My hair falls across my bare breasts and his hands move up to grasp my waist. I lean down and kiss his lips. I then pull back and look into his eyes.

"No regrets?"

He brings his hand up to cup my cheek. "Not a chance."

I lower myself back down to him and lay my head on his chest again. He picks up a strand of my hair and begins twisting it between his fingers.

"I have a list, you know," I say absentmindedly.

"A list? Of what?"

"Of things I want to do in my life. I made it after I was diagnosed with HIV."

I feel his chest move up and down as he inhales and exhales deeply. He drops my hair from his fingers.

I lift my head and look up at him. "What's wrong?"

His voice emerges softly. "It just hits me sometimes, you know? That you have this terrible disease that could take you away from me someday."

I see the fear in his eyes and I realize that this was one of the things holding him back. Fear of losing the one you love and what it can do to you. It all goes back to what happened with his mother and how it affected his father. Falling in love with an HIV positive woman must have made it that much harder for him.

I bring my hand up to his cheek and whisper, "I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."

I expect a smile out of him at the last part, but his expression remains serious.

He brings his hand up to cover mine.

"Promise?" he whispers.

I nod slowly. "Promise."

We're doctors and we both know that we can't make such promises, but I say it anyway and he accepts it. I guess we need to.

He lets out a breath. "So where's the list? Can I see it?"

I nod and roll off of him. I move to the side of the bed and pull open the drawer in my night stand. I take the piece of paper out and hand it to him.

"I've barely made a dent and that's only a partial list. I always meant to add more."

His eyes scan the list and he reads it aloud.

1. Live in Paris  
2. Visit a nude beach  
3. Train like an astronaut at space camp  
4. Sleep in a haunted castle  
5. Tour a vineyard and sample a good bottle of wine  
6. Swim with the dolphins  
7. Scuba dive the Great Barrier Reef  
8. Name your own star  
9. Try to hit a Major League fastball  
10. Take a swamp tour and learn how to wrestle an alligator  
11. Skydive.  
12. Lose more money than you can afford at roulette in Vegas.  
13. Go skinny-dipping at midnight in the South of France.  
14. Spend a whole day eating junk food without feeling guilty.  
15. Make love on the beach under the stars  
16. Send a message in a bottle.  
17. Watch the sun set from the top of the Eiffel Tower.  
18. Learn to ballroom dance properly.  
19. Shower in a waterfall.  
20. Spend New Year's in an exotic location.  
21. Make a complete and utter fool of yourself.  
22. Take a ride on the highest roller coaster in the country.  
23. Go up in a hot-air balloon.  
24. Fall deeply in love - helplessly and unconditionally.  
25. Promise to love that person in front of God, family and friends  
26. Experience the joy of pregnancy and childbirth  
27. Have a child and look into your child's eyes, see yourself, and smile.  
28. Reflect on your greatest weakness and realize how it is your greatest strength.

He turns to look at me. "I see you've crossed out 'Live in Paris', 'Name your own star' and 'Tour a vineyard and sample a good wine'."

I nod. "Impressive, huh?"

"What about 'Fall deeply in love - helplessly and unconditionally'? Why isn't that one crossed off? You were in love with Stone and Jason," he asks quietly.

I shake my head. "With Stone it wasn't helplessly and with Jason it wasn't unconditionally."

I take the list from him and reach over to the nightstand to pick up a pen. I draw a line through 'Fall deeply in love - helplessly and unconditionally'.

I then meet his eyes. "Now I can cross it off."

He smiles and lifts himself up on his elbow to kiss me. He then lays back down and pulls the list from my grip.

"So what about the rest?"

"What about them?"

"Are you going to do them?"

"I don't know. It doesn't seem so important anymore."

He shrugs, "Maybe not, but it seems like it could be a lot of fun. How about we do them together?"

I raise an eyebrow. "You want to do all of these things with me?"

He waggles his eyebrows. "These and a whole lot more."

I smile. "Okay." I pause, something hitting me for the first time. "I just realized something."

"What?"

"The reason I've barely put a dent in this list is because I didn't have anyone to do them with. I didn't have someone by my side to share each one. That's not the case anymore."

His lifts himself up on his elbow again and places his head in his palm, as he looks down at me. "And it never will be again."

He then lowers his lips to mine. He pulls back a moment later and I sigh in disappointment from the lack of contact. He lays back down and I place my head on his shoulder, looking at the list.

"So, which one should we do first?"

He smiles. "Well, I'm ready and willing to do number 19 right now."

I glance at number 19: Make love on the beach under the stars.

"Shocking," I reply with a grin.

He points at the list. "How about number two?"

I wrinkle my nose. "Visit a nude beach?"

"Yeah, come on, it's a beach and we'll already be naked. We can knock off 2 and 19 just like that," he says, snapping his fingers.

"How very efficient of you," I say with a smile. It fades soon though and I shake my head. "I don't know about a nude beach."

"You're the one who put it on the list."

"Yes, but I never said I'd go to it nude. I just said I'd visit it."

"Well, then you're defeating the whole purpose. Then you're just a weird fully-dressed person looking at naked people, most of whom have no business being naked."

I sigh. "Can't we start with something easier? How about ballroom dancing? That sounds like fun."

Patrick's expression looks as if I just suggested castration. "Easier for you maybe."

"You just want to look at hot naked women."

He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. "I already have a hot naked woman I can look at any time I want."

"Patrick, I really don't think I want to walk around on a beach naked."

"It's your list, Robin. I would never force you to do anything, but I don't know what you're so afraid of." He pauses, his voice softening and his gaze sweeping over my face, "You're incredibly beautiful and you have an amazing body."

I feel my face turn red. "It's different with you. You make me feel beautiful and sexy. You make me feel free and confident. My insecurities just drop away when you look at me."

He brings his thumb to my mouth and runs it along my lower lip. "But I'll be there with you, remember?"

I smile and nod. "I remember."

He eyes me for a moment before speaking. "There's another reason you've barely made a dent in that list."

"What?"

"Well, take a look at the things you've crossed off: Live in Paris, name your own star, tour a vineyard and sample a good wine. Those are all things that don't require any real risk or boldness. There's no spontaneity or bravery involved."

"Hey, moving to another country by myself wasn't exactly easy."

"You know what I mean."

"And your point is?"

"My point is you never had someone to push you to do the hard stuff, so you did the easy ones and barely made a dent."

I smile. "But now I have you."

He runs his hand up and down my arm. "Now you have me."

I settle my head into the crook of his neck and sigh in contentment.

Now I have him.

**---  
Up Next: To Do # 1 - Visit a Nude Beach**  
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought.  
-Steph .


	2. To Do 1: Visit a Nude Beach

**Title**: The List  
**Author**: Steph  
**Rating**: PG  
**Pairing**: Robin/Patrick  
**Category**: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV**: Robin  
**Disclaimer**: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers**: Nope.  
**Summary**: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**Note**: Thanks for the feedback! I'm going to number each part as To Do # 1, To Do # 2, and so on. This is just the order they're doing the list. The numbers don't coincide with the numbered activities on her list. I hope that doesn't get confusing, but the story won't necessarily go in order of the list and some of the activities have already been done. Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph

**--- The List: _To Do # 1 - Visit a Nude Beach_ ---**

Patrick sighs in agitation as I stuff a book in my large beach tote, which is already overflowing. He's been blowing out little breaths of air and tapping his foot behind me for the last ten minutes. I'm surprised he's kept quiet this long.

"We're going to a nude beach. Why is it you need so much stuff?"

Guess he just couldn't take it anymore.

I turn and look at him. "You still need stuff when you go the beach, Patrick. What are you bringing?"

He smiles, dimple in full effect, as he holds up a bottle of sunscreen in his right hand and points at his mouth with his left.

"This and a smile."

I arch an eyebrow. "That's it? What about a towel?"

"I air dry," he replies, eyes twinkling.

"What if you want to sit on the sand?"

"Then I'll sit on the sand."

"Fine, but don't come crying to me when you find sand in places sand has no business being weeks from now."

He takes a few steps toward me and wraps his arms around his waist. "Well, if that happens when we're doing number 19, then I really don't care."

"We are not doing number 19 today. One thing at a time," I say as firmly as I can manage, as I shake my head and tap my finger against his chest.

His lips turn downward. "Fine."

I slip out of his arms and turn around, picking my bag up by the handles. "All right, let's go."

---

"I think we're lost," I say, sighing quite dramatically.

"We're not lost."

"I'm pretty sure we're lost."

"We are not lost," he says through gritted teeth.

Why is it all men have trouble admitting when they're lost and refuse to ask for directions? Is it something in their genetic make-up? I think someone needs to do some research on this phenomenon if they haven't already. It's not my area of expertise or I'd do it myself.

I tap my finger against the MapQuest sheet I'm holding in my hand. "We were supposed to be at the beach in 2.3 miles from the last turn. We've driven at least five miles. I think you made a mistake before. You took the wrong turn. I told you I didn't think that was the right turn, but you wouldn't listen."

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched in concentration and agitation.

"It's a beach. You wouldn't think it would be too hard to spot," he mutters under his breath.

"If you're going in the wrong direction it will be," I reply pointedly.

He throws me an icy sideways glance, then turns his attention back to the road. All of the sudden his eyes widen and a smile spreads across his lips. He points at the windshield.

"There! Is that or is that not a beach!"

My lips curl into a frown. I don't get it. I was sure he'd made a mistake. I hate being wrong.

He turns right into the lot and pulls into a space. He then looks at me and rubs his hands together. "Anytime you're ready."

My eyebrows arch in confusion. "Anytime I'm ready for what?"

"Anytime you're ready to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"Yes, for doubting me."

I groan, but don't say a word.

"You would think by now you would have learned not to doubt me," he says with a grin.

I roll my eyes. "There's not enough room in this car for you, me, and your ego."

I then pull on the door handle and step outside. He follows a moment and comes to stand by my side.

He places his hands on hips and eyes me. "It's time. Let's strip."

I bite nervously at my bottom lip. "I don't think I can do it."

"Sure you can. I've seen you strip off your clothes before and you are quite skilled at it," he replies with a grin.

I slap his arm. "Not that. I mean, walking on the beach nude. Everyone's going to be looking at me."

"Robin, everyone's going to be nude. No one's going to pay any attention to you."

I arch an eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight. When you're sitting on that beach, you're going to be oblivious to all of the beautiful, unclothed women walking past you?"

"I'll be so captivated by you that I won't notice anyone else."

"You're so full of it," I reply with a roll of my eyes, but can't help the smile pulling at my lips. The smile fades soon enough though. "I really don't think I want strange men leering at me."

"Are you calling me a strange man?"

"That's not what I meant."

"How about this? If I see a guy look at you, I'll punch him out."

I burst out laughing and have to cover my mouth to contain myself. The corners of his mouth turn downward.

"What was that for?"

"We both know you would never risk your precious hands."

He takes a step forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me to him. "Oh, we both know that, do we?"

"Yup."

He leans close to me, whispering in my ear. "Haven't you realized yet that I'd do anything for you?"

I feel my breath catch in my chest and I have to swallow hard. He pulls back and looks at me, smiling gently. "You know I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do. This is your list, Robin. If you don't want to do this, just say the word and we're out of here."

I chew on my bottom lip so hard I'm sure there will be a hole in it by the time I'm done.

He continues, his penetrating eyes focused on mine. "But let me just say this first. Sometimes you have to take a risk, take a chance. You took a chance on me and look what happened. You stepped outside your comfort zone and did some pretty uncharacteristic things."

"And I almost lost you because of it."

"You made me see what I could have with you and what I'd be giving up. I may not have liked how you went about it, but if you hadn't done it, then it may have taken us a year, or two or maybe five to get here. Or maybe we never would have. Who really knows? But you took a chance on me and made me see that we were worth taking a chance on." He smiles and brings his hand up to cup my cheek, "I think you've proven that when you take a chance, take a risk, and step outside your comfort zone, unexpectedly wonderful things can happen."

He then brings his lips down to mine, offering me a sweet, tender kiss. When he pulls back, he looks into my eyes. "So, what's it going to be?"

"Can I keep my eyes closed the whole time? I mean, even when we're walking?"

He smiles and nods. "I'll hold your hand and guide you along."

I smile, realizing that, for the first time in a long time, I have someone to hold my hand and help me through the tough times. I'd gotten so used to making it through everything on my own, that I'd forgotten how to let someone help me. I'd forgotten how much easier having the support of someone you love can make even the most difficult tasks.

"Okay," I say softly.

I look at him with wide eyes, realizing that while I was lost in thought, he stripped his shorts and t-shirt. I scan his lean, toned upper body and smile as my eyes make their way down further.

"You sure are fast. You seem to have stripping down to an art form."

"I've had a lot of practice."

I chuckle and shake my head. His gaze meets mine and my laugh subsides abruptly. His eyes twinkle and then scan the length of my body.

"Your turn."

"Patrick," I say, gnawing at my bottom lip again.

"Okay, okay," he says, bringing his hands to the bottom of my tank top. "I'd be happy to assist you."

I close my eyes. Here goes nothing.

What am I thinking? I should have my head examined. Stupid list. We couldn't have gone ballroom dancing? Oh no!

---

My hand is securely in Patrick's and I know he must love me because it's absolutely dripping with sweat and he's only tightened his grip as we walk. My eyes are squeezed shut. I can't bare to open them and see people's eyes on my body.

My brow furrows as I realize we've been walking for some time. Why doesn't he just find a spot and sit down? I'll feel much better once I'm not parading around in my birthday suit anymore.

I tug on his hand. "Uh, Patrick? Why are we still walking?"

There's a few moments of silence before he speaks reluctantly. "We have a problem."

My brow furrows. "What kind of problem?"

"Open your eyes."

"What? No!"

"Robin, open your eyes."

I sigh and slowly open one eye, then the other. Those now open eyes widen as I take in my surroundings. I stop dead in my tracks, still holding onto his hand, and nearly causing him to fall backwards.

"None of these people are nude!" I scream, as I glare at him.

"You're very observant."

I punch him in the arm. He yelps and grabs onto his arm, rubbing at it.

All eyes are on us. It was bad enough when I thought other nude people might look at me. But now I'm just a crazy naked woman being gawked at by appropriately dressed beach-goers. I wish the sand beneath my feet would just open up and swallow me. This is like those dreams you have when you show up to school or work naked. Except this is really happening!

I scowl at Patrick. "This is not a nude beach!"

"Yeah, I kind of figured that out."

"Why did you just keep walking then?"

"At first, I thought that maybe a section of the beach was designated nude, so I figured we should keep walking until we found it."

"There's no section, is there?" I say through clenched teeth.

He shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. "I think you may have been right before. I think we took a wrong turn and missed the one for the nude beach."

"We! We! We didn't do anything! You wouldn't listen to me! You and your ego decided that you were right and you wouldn't listen to a thing I said."

Patrick leans in close to me. "I know you're angry with me, but maybe we could save the arguing for when we get back to the car. Call me quirky, but I prefer to argue fully clothed."

He gestures to my body and I gasp, having momentarily forgotten that I am still nude. I quickly pull a towel out of my tote and wrap it securely around my body.

He looks at me expectantly.

"What?" I ask.

"Did you bring an extra towel by any chance?"

A grin spreads across my face. "What? You mean your sunscreen and gorgeous smile aren't meeting your current needs?"

He rolls his eyes. "You stuffed everything and the kitchen sink in that bag. You mean to tell me you didn't put another towel in there?"

"Why would I need two towels?" I ask, my grin now permanent.

He sighs and begins to stalk off in the direction we just came from. All of the sudden, I hear a whistle. Patrick stops in his tracks and turns around. I spin around, too. My eyes widen as I see a beach patrol officer walking towards us.

Oh, kill me now. Just kill me now.

Patrick comes to stand beside me.

"Let me do the talking," he whispers.

I scoff, saying out of the corner of my mouth. "You're still standing there nude. I think I should do the talking."

"I have a way with people," he mutters.

"You have a way with women. If this were a gorgeous twenty-two year old blonde coming towards us instead of a two hundred pound guy, I'd like your chances. I'm doing the talking."

He sighs. The patrol officer walks to us and removes his sunglasses. I see Patrick eye him and bite his lip to keep from laughing. He's wearing black spandex biking shorts and a navy t-shirt that says "Beach Patrol" in huge yellow letters across the front. He looks utterly ridiculous, but I don't think Patrick's in a position to throw stones.

I open my mouth to speak, but Patrick beats me to it. He grins. "I have a shirt just like that at home, except it says 'Bikini Patrol'."

I squeeze my eyes shut. What is wrong with him? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

The officer's face remains stone still. "We received some complaints about two people roaming the beach nude."

I smile and shrug my shoulders. "As you can see...uh, officer...I am not nude."

He looks at Patrick. "Well, you certainly are."

I look at Patrick. His mouth opens and I can see he's trying to figure out a way to convince the officer otherwise. Now Patrick is good at charm and persuasion, but he's not that good.

"Can't get anything past you," he finally replies.

"You're going to have to come with me, sir," the officer says to him.

My mouth drops open. Patrick's brow furrows and he laughs nervously. "Where are you taking me? Beach jail?"

The officer nods. "Yes, actually. You're in violation. Someone's going to have to bail you out."

"There's a beach jail!" Patrick says to no one in particular.

I know I should feel sorry for him, but I can't help but be amused. After all, he insisted on not bringing a towel, he got us lost and he wouldn't listen to me.

The officer takes Patrick by the arm. "Let's go."

Patrick turns to me with a pleading look. I simply smile and wave at him.

---

As much as I love the guy, I couldn't help but let him suffer for a little while. That ego of his needs a hit or two every so often. I put the bathing suit that I had hidden at the bottom of my bag on and went for a leisurely swim. After that, I got some lunch, then some ice cream. It was actually a very relaxing afternoon. Three hours later, I walk into 'Beach Jail' to bail him out.

Beach jail consists of a 5x5 cell with two chairs inside. I come to stand in front of the cell, a smile spread across my lips. Patrick's sitting next to a three hundred pound man with tattoos all over his body. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Patrick is no longer nude. Instead, he is wearing spandex biking shorts and a 'Beach Patrol' shirt.

"Good look for you," I manage to say.

He stands up and walks to me. "If you ever tell anyone about this, I will never forgive you."

I reach into my bag and pull out my camera. His mouth drops open and his eyes bulge out.

"Say, 'Beach Jail,'" I instruct.

He reaches in between the bars and tries to grab the camera, but I move out of his reach.

I smile and hold the camera up. "I won't have to tell anyone. A picture's worth a thousand words. Epiphany's going to love this."

Just then, an officer walks over and unlocks the cell. Patrick practically runs out.

He offers me a grimace, but slips his hand in mine. "Let's go."

I smile and wave goodbye to the officer.

---

"Three hours! Three hours!" Patrick says, as he pounds his fist on the steering wheel.

"Yes, I heard you the first fifty times," I say with a sigh.

"Why did you make me suffer like that?"

"To teach you a lesson. You weren't prepared, you couldn't admit that you got us lost, and you wouldn't listen to me."

He throws me a look. "You owe me."

"Owe you?"

"Yes, I had to suffer for three hours in this ridiculous outfit, sitting next to a three hundred pound man who smelled like fish and corndogs."

"But you love corndogs," I say, barely able to keep a straight face.

His jaw tightens. "You owe me and I intend to collect."

My brow furrows, as he suddenly pulls over to the side of the road. "What are you doing?"

He undoes his seatbelt and turns to me, smiling. "Collecting."

"Collecting how?"

"Well, you see, I happen to have a list of my own. And at the top of the list it says, "Make love to your beautiful, if cruel, girlfriend in your car."

We've already exchanged I love you's, but it's the first time he's called me his girlfriend and the word makes me grin from ear-to-ear.

He inches toward me. I lean back against the window and he presses his body into mine, his face just inches away.

"Well, no wonder you could never cross that one off. You've never had a girlfriend before," I say.

He nods, his eyes meeting mine and his warm breath tickling my lips. "But that's not the case anymore."

I smile. "Now you have me."

"Now I have you," he says, as he brings his lips to mine.

I pull back a moment later. "Will I be forgiven after this?"

He grins and shakes his head, "I'm not one to easily forgive. It's going to take a while. It may take all night long."

I bring my thumb up and caress his dimple, as my smile widens. "Well, I'll do whatever I can to get back in your good graces."

He laughs into my mouth, saying, "I'm holding you to that," before his lips cover mine again.

He puts his stripping skills to good use and we get started on number one on his list.

By the way, I am totally crossing off number two on mine. It counts!

----  
**Up Next: To Do # 2 - Sleep in a Haunted Castle**  
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph.


	3. To Do 2: Spend Night in a Haunted Castle

**Title**: The List  
**Author**: Steph  
**Rating**: PG  
**Pairing**: Robin/Patrick  
**Category**: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV**: Robin  
**Disclaimer**: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers**: Nope.  
**Summary**: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**Note:** Thanks for the feedback!

**--- The List: _To Do # 2 - Sleep in a Haunted Castle_ ---**

I feel his body press into mine as a stand at the nurses' station and his breath tickle the skin of my ear as he leans in close. I was making notes on a patient chart, but I've suddenly lost my focus.

"Guess what we're doing this weekend," he says huskily.

I smile and shake my head. "You are insatiable."

We've been a true couple for over two months now. I thought that Patrick's desire for me would have waned some in that time. I was even concerned that being in a committed relationship would make me less appealing to him. But that hasn't been the case. If anything, his desire for me has even grown over the last two months and the same is true for me of him. We can't keep our hands off each other and it never seems to be enough.

His hands move to my waist and he spins me around to face him. "No, not that. Okay, maybe that, but that's not what I was referring to." He holds up a few sheets. "I just printed these off the net."

I raise an eyebrow. "You mean when you were supposed to be finishing up some paperwork you're behind on?"

"You're to blame for that. You keep me up all night long. I can't concentrate," he replies with a grin.

I smile and take the sheets from him. "Mallindor Castle: A Frightful Experience."

He holds up four fingers. "Number four on your list."

My smile fades. "That sounds wonderful, but I can't this weekend. You're not the only one who's behind on paperwork. You've done a number on me, too."

He shakes his head. "Sorry, I can't take no for an answer. I already booked it. Two nights, three days in Albany. We leave tomorrow night. No refunds."

I sigh. "Okay, but I can't see you tonight then. I have to get that paperwork done."

I feel my heart sink as I realize we haven't spent a night apart in over two months, since that night on the roof.

He shakes his head. "That really doesn't work for me."

"Patrick," I say, trying to control my smile.

He meets my eyes, his voice softening. "You have only yourself to blame for this, too. I can't even remember what it was like not waking up to your face and I don't want to."

I may just melt into a puddle right here on the floor. What girl in her right mind could resist that?

A slow smile spreads across my lips. "Okay, we'll go back to my place after our shifts, but we are working. That's the only way I'll agree to this."

He glances around before bringing his lips to mine. He quickly pulls back. "Deal."

---

I look over at him as he drives, eyes focused on the road. I'm trying to do the paperwork that I failed so miserably at completing the night before.

We went back to my place, fully intending to get our work done. At least, that was my intention. I think Patrick had different ideas.

First, he reached across me to get a pen, his lips "accidentally" brushing against my neck. Then, he "accidentally" dropped his pen and his hand found its way up my thigh as he ducked under the table in search of it. Admittedly, the last one was my fault. He was standing and leaning over my shoulder, looking at some notes I'd made about one of our patients. His gorgeous face was so close to mine that I couldn't resist stealing a glance. That wasn't enough though and soon my hand snaked up and cupped his cheek. I turned his head to face me and guided his lips to mine.

He pulled back first and said with a smile, "Now, Dr. Scorpio, I thought we we're supposed to be working."

But, like potato chips, one kiss from Patrick Drake is just not enough. I had to have him. My reply was to pull him to me again and, before I knew it, we were making love on my living room floor, our work completely forgotten.

This man may just cost me my job. But if you're going to lose your job over a man, there's no better one than Patrick Drake.

I'm pulled from my thoughts of last night by the sound of his voice. I glance over at him.

"What did you say?"

He grins. "I asked you what you were smiling about, but I think I have a pretty good idea."

I feel my face flood with red. "I wasn't smiling. I was working."

"Sure you were. I know patients with brain conditions always bring a smile to my lips."

I shake my head and try to focus on my work.

He turns his attention back to the road and, a moment later, nods to his left.

"There it is."

I look out the window, my eyes landing on a stone and metal gate. Behind it in the distance is a massive castle. It's at least three stories with floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows. Two towers balance each end.

Patrick pulls up to the gate, lowers his window, and presses the button on the intercom. A moment later, a deep voice answers.

"Confirmation number if you dare."

Patrick takes a slip of paper out of his wallet and reads it off. "4765312."

The metal doors swing open immediately and Patrick drives the car down the pebbled path. I look around at the surroundings. The yard is appropriately overgrown. The grass is high, weeds poking out everywhere. Trees with snarled branches loom in front of the house.

"They sure know how to set the mood," I comment.

Patrick follows the drive until it leads to a small lot. No other cars are in sight. He parks the car and we exit it. We pull our bags from the trunk and then walk up the path. Patrick knocks on the large wooden door, using the skull knocker. The door swings open. We exchange a look before he places his hand on the small of my back and guides me inside.

I'm supposed to think he's being a gentleman letting me go first. But I know better. He's a chicken.

We step inside, perusing our surroundings. The foyer is wide and open, with a huge spiral staircase extending in front of us. The walls are paneled in dark wood and a dusty chandelier covered in cobwebs hangs precariously above our heads.

We look around, waiting for someone to greet us, but no one ever comes.

"Is there some place to check in?" I ask no one in particular.

Patrick shrugs and moves to his right, where a large mahogany desk sits. He walks over and looks at a piece of paper. He finds our names, the only ones on the list, and signs beside it.

"Is that it?" I ask.

"I guess. I already paid online with my credit card."

"Well, what are we supposed to do now? We need a room."

"I don't-..." Patrick begins, before glancing back down at the desk and catching sight of something.

He picks up a key with the number 16 on it. "That was not there a second ago."

My eyes widen. "Are you serious?"

"Completely."

We both shake our heads, as we grab our bags and head up the stairs. Room 16 is on the first floor, the fourth door down the hallway to our right. Patrick sticks the key in and opens the door. The door swings open with a creak. We step inside and the door immediately slams shut behind us, causing both of us to nearly jump out of our skins. We exchange a look and some nervous laughter before shaking our heads.

Our eyes move to peruse the room. There's a huge four poster bed against the wall to our right. Opposite that is a stone fireplace. The room is paneled in dark wood just like the rest of the castle. There's a lone light hanging from the center of the ceiling and no lamps.

"Must save a bundle on their electric bill," Patrick says.

I nod and then turn to him. "So what's the history of this place?" I ask. "What makes it haunted?"

Patrick raises an eyebrow. "You mean you didn't read the information I gave you?"

"And when would you have liked me to do that? In between trying to work and fighting off your advances?"

"Fighting off? You weren't exactly fighting me off last night. In fact, Dr. Scorpio, you were the aggressor."

"You started it with your little accidents."

He smiles and shrugs. "I can't help it if I'm accident-prone."

I gesture to the room. "Come on, give me the history."

"Well, this place was built in the late 1700's by a young man named Peter Mallindor. He had it built as a wedding gift for his fiancee, Lila Hillingsly. Mallindor made his money doing work overseas and would often spend long stretches in Europe. He left before the castle was finished. When he returned nearly a year later, he found that Lila had taken ill and died. The castle had just been completed and she died here. He refused to leave the castle even though it was a painful reminder of her. He spent ten years here grieving for her. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He jumped off the East Tower."

I shake my head. "That's terrible."

"Now here's the haunted part, if you want to believe it."

"You mean you don't?"

"I'm a doctor. I believe in things that can be proven. I believe in scientific evidence."

"I'm a doctor, too. But I'm also the child of super spies and I've seen my fair share of unbelievable things. I've seen things that defy logical explanation."

"So you're a believer? Robin Scorpio, the practical, level-headed medical researcher, is a believer in ghosts. I never would have guessed."

"I keep an open mind. Now tell me the story."

He sighs. "It's been said that a woman dressed in white has been seen walking the grounds and has also been spotted in the room where she died. Room 14."

"That's right next door."

"A man resembling Peter has supposedly been sighted standing on the East Tower. It's also been said that at night you can hear him calling her name, Lila. Legend has it, that Lila and Peter are searching for each other, awaiting their reunion."

"That is so sad. They can't bear to be apart, even in the afterlife. That's how in love they were."

Patrick smiles and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me to him. "Now that I'm a believer in."

I smile, as he lowers his lips to mine and offers me a soft kiss. The kiss quickly grows heated. Patrick's fingers move to my blouse and my hands find their way to his belt. Suddenly, both windows in the room blow open. We abruptly pull apart, as the wind whips around us. We quickly move to the windows and close them.

"I'm sure that was nothing. Must not have been locked," Patrick says, as he secures each latch.

I turn to look at him, choosing not to comment and ignoring the chills coursing through my body.

"How about we do a little exploring?"

"I was actually hoping we could pick up where we just left off," he replies with a grin, moving toward me.

I shake my head and grab his hand. "We are not spending the whole weekend in this room."

"Now what would be so bad about that?" he mumbles, as he I drag him out of the room.

---

We walk the dimly lit hallways, surprised to find no other guests or staff around.

"Are we the only ones here?"

"I don't know. Maybe it adds to the experience if we think we're all alone."

I poke my head in a door and realize it's a library. All four walls are covered with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. I walk in and Patrick follows me. I'm amazed at the sheer volume of books.

Patrick walks over to a bookcase and begins pulling books out.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He turns to me, smiling. "Were you a 'Scooby-Doo' fan when you were a kid?"

I nod enthusiastically, "I loved that show. I used to pretend I was Velma."

He bobs his head. "Velma. Of course. Smart, practical. You're more Daphne hot though. Man, did I have a crush on her."

I laugh and shake my head. "Am I sensing a fantasy of yours, Dr. Drake? Are you going to make me put a headband on, a little purple dress, and say things like 'jeepers'?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "I bet you were a Fred girl. He was brave and took control of a situation." I bob my head in agreement. "Well, you can forget it. I'm not wearing an ascot."

I smile. "Oh, but you'd look sexy in an ascot."

"No one looks sexy in an ascot."

I shake my head, returning to the original subject. "So, why exactly were you pulling books off the shelves?"

He nods, as if just remembering that's what got us started on this topic." Oh yeah. In Scooby-Doo, whenever they went into a haunted place there would always be a moment when one of them would pull on a book or a lighting fixture and the wall would spin around. Then that person would disappear."

I smile. "So that's what you were doing? You think there's some secret passageway behind the wall that can be revealed by pulling a book."

"Sure."

"You do know this isn't a cartoon, right?"

"This from the woman who believes in ghosts."

I shake my head, as I move around the room, peering at the titles. I pull one out. "Hey, look at-..." I begin to say, as I spin around to face him. My voice trails off, my brow furrowing as I realize he's nowhere in sight.

I smile and shake my head. "Okay, very funny, Patrick. You can come out now."

I receive silence as a reply. I sigh and walk to the door, looking behind it. Nothing. I glance around the room, looking for another possible hiding spot but there isn't one. With a groan, I walk out of the room and step into the hallway. I suddenly feel a chill go up and down my spine and goosebumps pop up on my skin. This place is truly creepy and it's only creepier all alone.

"Patrick!" I call in a harsh whisper. "This isn't funny! Get out here now!"

All the doors are closed and I try each one, finding most to be unlocked. I poke my head in each room and call his name. I let out a frustrated sigh, as I open yet another door and move to stick my head in. But before I can, a hand darts out and encircles my wrist, pulling me into the darkened room. The figure pushes me up against the door, effectively slamming it closed.

My breath catches in my chest, until my eyes meet his. Even in the pitch black, I'd know those eyes anywhere.

My jaw clenches and I bring my hand up to smack his chest. "You scared the hell out of me!"

My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and I see him grin. "Miss me?"

"Don't ever do that again."

"What? Did you think a big, bad ghost got me?"

"What ghost would want you? You'd just annoy him and he'd give you back."

He shakes his head, bringing his lips close to mine. "Well, if that's how you feel, then why do you love me?"

"I honestly don't know," I say, as I fight the smile beginning to overtake my lips.

He moves his mouth to my jaw and begins trailing kisses along it. His lips make their way to my ear and he whispers. "Oh, I think you know."

I close my eyes and let the feelings he evokes in me course through my body. I never knew what women meant by a man making their toes curl until I met Patrick Drake. I think I may need a podiatrist soon.

His lips move back to my mouth and he's just about to kiss me when I realize I'm still angry with him. I place my hands on his chest and gently push him away.

"What?" he asks, clearly frustrated.

"I'm still mad at you."

"Give me two minutes and you'll be feeling something else entirely."

"No," I state firmly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"No?" he repeats, eyes wide, clearly shocked that I could refuse him.

"That's right. No. You can't scare me like that and expect a few kisses to make things all better."

"I was planning on giving you much more than a few kisses."

I shake my head and move away from him. I then throw open the door dramatically, cross the threshold, and then slam it behind me. I stand in the hallway, frozen to my spot. I really don't want to go anywhere without him. I turn back around to face the door when it suddenly opens, revealing his smiling face.

"You sure didn't get far. The whole storming off bit kind of loses its effect if you don't make it more than two feet."

I sigh. "Look, this place gives me the creeps. I'd rather not wander around alone, even if that means I'll have to be in your company."

"I can't believe you're actually scared."

"You mean to tell me you're not even a little afraid?"

"What's there to fear? It's a castle. There aren't any ghosts here."

"You're so sure of that, huh?"

"Yup," he says with a firm nod of his head.

I smile and take a step forward, placing my hand in his. "You know what? I have a feeling you're going to be learning a lesson every time I cross something off my list."

---

We open the door to our room, our eyes widening at what we find. In the middle of the room, is a table set with candles and two covered platters of food.

I turn to look at Patrick. "That's not creepy?"

"Robin, it's all a part of the mood they set. The staff is supposed to seem non-existent because it's creepier that way. But a candlelight dinner is hardly something to fear. This is all part of the 'frightful experience' we were promised."

I nod, realizing he's right. I'm probably being silly.

I move to the table, but he catches my wrist. He pulls me toward him, his eyes dark with desire. "How about dessert first?"

"My position on that subject hasn't changed in the two minutes it took us to walk down the hallway."

He ignores me, taking my hands in his and backpedaling. He stops at the bed and sits down, pulling me toward him. My body falls in between his legs. I look down at him, biting my lip.

Resist. Resist.

He brings his hand up and caresses my cheek. He whispers, "I'm sorry I scared you."

"No, you're not."

He smiles. "Okay, I'm not."

"Points for honesty."

He places his hands on my waist and pulls me forward. I bring my legs up to straddle his hips and settle onto his lap. I lower my gaze and our eyes meet. He cups the back of my head and guides my mouth down to his. His tongue parts my lips, as my hands move to the hair at the nape of his neck.

So much for resisting.

He stands up and I wrap my legs completely around his hips. He spins us around effortlessly, his hands now entangled in my hair. He gently lowers me down to the bed, his hand supporting my head, but his lips never leaving mine. After a few moments, he pulls back and looks into my eyes, as he hovers mere inches above me.

My breath still catches in my chest every time he looks at me and it's during moments like these that I see his love for me shining through. I bring my hands up to his face and pulls his mouth back down to mine. He doesn't stay there long though, his lips soon making a path of warm kisses down my throat and then my chest. His fingers move to the buttons on my blouse. He replaces each button with a kiss, until my shirt is completely open and my black lace bra peeks out. He kisses my belly button and I giggle.

His mouth trails another path of kisses up my stomach. His lips dip into the crevice of my bra, as his hands move to cup my breasts. I arch my back and dig my fingernails into his back, frustrated that he still has his shirt on.

He continues up my chest and throat and then pulls back, looking down at me.

His mouth moves to my ear and he whispers, "I've never seen anyone more beautiful. I can't believe you're all mine. I love you more than you'll ever know."

I feel tears begin to sting my eyes, as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. A few months ago, I never would have expected those words to leave his mouth. I am one lucky woman.

He kisses my earlobe and then nips at it. I close my eyes and let out a moan.

"Lila."

My eyes fly open and I turn to look at him. For a moment, I think he just said another woman's name and my first instinct is to slap him.

My brow furrows. "What did you just say?"

"I didn't say anything," he breathes, his lips swollen.

"I heard something."

He looks at me in confusion.

"Lila."

It's so soft it's like the wind is whispering the word.

"There it is again! Did you hear it?"

He nods, quietly saying, "Yeah, I did."

"Oh my God! It's Peter!" I say, as I pull my shirt closed around me and scramble into a sitting position, my body pressed up against the headboard. He sighs, dropping his head, and then sits up to face me.

"We were about to make love, Robin. Please tell me you did not just stop because you thought you heard some dead guy."

"You heard him, too!"

"But it's not real. It's an illusion. It's a trick. It's all part of the-..."

"Experience," I finish for him. "Yeah, I know that's what you think. But what if this place is truly haunted? Maybe it really was him."

He crawls toward me, smiling. "Well, then I hope he likes watching."

My lips turn downward and I swat his arm. "That's disgusting."

He groans and rubs at his face. "Come on, Robin."

"Come on nothing. I am not having sex with you while some ghost lurks around here."

"Then I'll ask him to join us. We can have a threesome."

I smack his arm again, this time harder. "Stop being disgusting and stop making jokes."

"Well, what do you expect me to say? You're being ridiculous."

I throw him an icy glare, before slipping beneath the covers. I'm not even going to change. Just in case I need to flee quickly, I prefer to be fully-clothed. I button my blouse and pull the covers up to my chin.

He sighs in frustration, before stripping down to his boxers. I feel a pang of regret as my eyes scan his chest. He slips in beside me and props his elbow up on the pillow, his head resting in his palm.

"Goodnight, Robin," he whispers, before leaning down and kissing my forehead.

---

"Patrick," I say with a giggle, as I feel his lips brush the back of my neck.

I can feel the sun shining in, beckoning me to open my eyes.

I turn and open my eyes, surprised to find that he appears to be asleep. I shiver and pull the covers tighter around me.

I bring my hand to his arm and tap it gently. "Patrick? Are you awake?"

He groans and slowly opens one eyes. "I am now."

"Did you just kiss my neck? I felt something on the back of my neck."

He turns his head to me. "I was sound asleep until someone so rudely awakened me a moment ago."

"You really were? You're not just saying that to make me think I'm crazy?"

"I don't need to expend the energy. You're doing that just fine on your own."

I slap his arm. "I'm not crazy! I really think the stuff that's been happening is real."

He sighs, but doesn't reply. Our eyes then move to the foot of the bed. There's now a tray of croissants and muffins sitting on the table where our forgotten dinners had been left the night before.

It gives me the creeps to think that someone entered our room while we slept and left food, but I'm so hungry I only give it a passing thought. We climb out of bed and eat in silence. Then we dress in silence. An hour later, we leave our room to do a little more exploring.

We only walk a few feet before I stop in front of Room 16. I pull on the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. The door swings open and we enter. The room is an exact copy of our room. There's a bureau against one wall where a brush and mirror set sits. I move to the night stand and pull the drawer open. Inside, is a faded, tattered letter. I take it out and open it up. I sit down on the bed, as Patrick hovers above me.

"My Dearest Lila, by the time you receive this letter, I hope to have returned to you. I cannot wait any longer to make you my wife. Every moment spent away from you is a moment wasted. I never want to go another day without seeing your lovely face. I shall never leave your side again. I will see you soon, my darling. Love always and forever, Peter."

My eyes begin to blur from tears. I look up at Patrick. "That was beautiful."

Patrick sits down beside me and takes my hand in his. "I know exactly where this Peter guy was coming from."

I smile and wipe at a tear that's escaped down my cheek. "You mean you believe he actually wrote this letter? You don't think it's just part of the experience?"

He shakes his head, his voice soft. "No, those words were written by a man in love."

I nod, my smile widening. I fold the letter and put it back in the drawer.

---

Patrick and I spend the day exploring the castle and the surrounding grounds. We find lunch set up on the dining room table at one and dinner in the same place at six. After dinner, we move to the parlor and curl up on a sofa in front of a fire that appeared out of nowhere. We sit in silence for nearly an hour, simply content to be in each other's arms.

My head is resting in Patrick's lap, as he strokes my hair. He finally breaks the silence.

"My father used to take me camping every summer." I turn so that I am looking up at him. He goes on. "He would make a fire and then he would tell me ghost stories. It used to drive him crazy because no matter what he said, no matter how creepy and outlandish the plot, he could never scare me."

"And you couldn't fake it just once to make him happy," I say.

He shakes his head with a smile. "Nope, couldn't do it." He pauses before continuing. "But I always liked that he wouldn't give up."

I find his hand and entwine our fingers, as I look up at him. "He loves you very much, you know. He's never going to give up on you."

"I know," he replies quietly.

"He came to see me after that terrible fight we had when I thought I had lost you forever. He took responsibility for the role he played in the man you became. He helped me understand what you were going through and made me realize that I couldn't just let you go."

Patrick's eyes widened. "So he's the reason we're here right now?"

I smile. "In a haunted castle? No."

He shakes his head and brings his hand to my cheek, his thumb caressing it. His voice emerges softly. "No, I mean together, like this. I have him to thank."

I nod. "I'm not sure if I would have ever found the courage to go to you if it weren't for him."

A smile spreads across his lips as he leans down close to my face. "Well, look at that. Dear old dad is good for something."

I laugh, but Patrick quickly suppresses it by capturing my lips.

---

Around ten, Patrick and I go back to our room. He goes in the bathroom to change first. I look around the room, my eyes brightening as an idea hits me. I quickly move to the bureau and rummage through it. I pull out a long, white negligee and place it on the bed. Then I strip my clothes off and put on the negligee. I turn off the light and open the door. I then move to the corner of the room by the window. I'm hidden by the shadows, except for the sliver of moonlight outlining my figure.

He comes out of the bathroom a moment later, stopping dead in his tracks when he realizes the room has been plunged into darkness. His eyes move to the open door and then roam around the room.

"Robin? Robin, where are you?" his voice is small and trembles slightly.

His eyes move to the corner and he notices me for the first time. I hear him suck in a breath and then say so softly I can barely hear him. "Lila?"

"Peter," I breathe, barely able to suppress a laugh.

"Jesus," he mutters.

Even in the dark, I can tell he's scared out of his mind and it's taking all of his strength not to run out of the room. I'm about to step out of the shadows and reveal myself, when I see a flash of white dart past the door.

I suck in a breath. Oh my God.

I run out of the corner to the door, nearly giving Patrick a heart attack in the process.

"Robin?"

I look out the door and down the hallway, but I don't see anyone. I feel my heart beating wildly in my chest as I turn around. I come face-to-face with Patrick. He does not look happy.

"What the hell was that?"

"I was trying to scare you."

"Well, mission accomplished."

"So, that means you're a believer or it wouldn't have scared you. You thought I was Lila."

He sighs in defeat. "Fine, I'm a believer. Happy now?"

"No, what will make me happy is if you go with me in search of Lila."

"Excuse me?"

"I just saw this woman in white move past the door. It must have been her."

"It was probably just part of the-..."

"Don't say it. You just said you're a believer."

He groans. "All right, let's go."

He slips his hand in mine and we head out.

---

We walk down the hallway in the direction I saw her go. We keep walking until we reach the end. There's a huge door looming in front of us.

"This is the door that leads to the East Tower," Patrick says.

I take a breath. "Where Peter committed suicide."

I reach for the doorknob and the door swings open.

"After you," I say, gesturing in front of me.

"Ladies first," he replies with a shake of his head.

"You're such a chicken."

"Not a chicken. A gentleman."

"Funny how you're only a 'gentleman' when it suits you."

"Yeah, funny how that works." He then gestures to the door. "I insist."

I sigh deeply and cross the threshold. The stairs are steep and winding. Patrick is close on my heels and I can hear his heavy breathing behind me. We finally reach the top and find another door. I slowly, reluctantly, open the door, and step over the threshold. Patrick follows me, but we don't get more than a foot before the sight before us roots us to our spots.

Standing on the stone wall, looking down, is a man.

I slowly turn to look at Patrick, my eyes wide. I find my voice and manage to croak out, "You don't think that's..."

My voice trails off and Patrick shakes his head. "No way."

I take a few steps forward and swallow hard.

"Peter?" I call out weakly.

The man turns to face us. I saw a portrait in the foyer of Peter Mallindor and it looks exactly like the man standing before me. He short, not more than 5' 5". His body is small and wiry. His brown hair is parted down the middle and he has piercing blue eyes that are visible even in the darkness.

His gaze moves from me to Patrick. His eyes are so intense I'm sure Patrick will have two perfect little holes in his forehead by the time this is said and done.

"Hold onto her. Never let go," he says, his voice like a whisper carried in the wind. It's the same voice that said 'Lila'. I'm sure of it.

Patrick's eyes practically fall out of their sockets. I move my gaze from him back to the man before us, but he is no longer there. I shake my head in disbelief.

"Where did he go?"

Patrick shakes his head and turns to me. "I have no idea, but let's get the hell out of here."

I nod, my body feeling so cold I feel as if I'll never be warm again. "Yeah, let's go back to our room."

"No, I meant let's get out of here as in let's leave this place, let's go home," he says firmly.

I feel a grin pulling at my lips. "You're really scared, aren't you?"

"Well, if you can come up with a logical explanation for what just happened then I'll be more than happy to listen."

I stand there in silence, staring at him.

He nods. "That's what I thought. I'm a believer. I learned my lesson. Now let's get the hell out of here."

He grabs my hand and practically drags me all the way down the stairs and back to our room.

---

I look at Patrick as we head back to Port Charles. He hasn't said a word the entire time. His hands are wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel his knuckles are white.

"Well, that was fun," I finally say.

He turns to look at me. "Fun like a root canal."

"Oh, come on, it was pretty fun until the end."

"Call me crazy, but encountering a dead guy's spirit sort of ruined the whole thing for me."

"Hey, we got the frightful experience we were promised. You really thought we were in for a fun, all smoke and mirrors time this weekend, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I thought there would be a bunch of cheesy, painfully obvious fake stuff. I thought we'd spend the weekend making fun of most of it."

"Got more than you bargained for, huh?"

He turns to look at me, his expression suddenly serious. "That seems to be happening a lot lately."

My face falls at his abrupt change in tone. Is he talking about us?

"You mean with me? With us?"

He nods, swallowing hard, "Robin, I never expected to fall for you the way I did. It took me a long time to acknowledge those feelings. And when I did, I realized just how deeply I love you. I wasn't prepared for that and it still scares me sometimes to think about what you do to me. To realize I can't control how I feel, I can't control that part of my life."

I take a deep breath. I feared this would happen. I feared there would come a time when it all became too much for him.

"So what are you saying?"

He pulls to the side of the road and meets my eyes again. His voice is so soft I can barely hear and have to lean forward in my seat. "I'm saying I'd be lost without you. Maybe it sounds crazy or stupid, but I felt like I was Peter before I met you, just wandering around, trying to find my way, searching for you when I didn't even realize it. Nothing makes sense without you. I don't make sense. The thought of losing you..."

His voice trails off, as he lowers his eyes. I can see the legend of Mallindor Castle and what Peter said to him has had an effect.

I bring my hand to his cheek. "Look at me," I say softly, but firmly. He brings his eyes to meet mine. "I promised you before that nothing would happen, that nothing would ever take me away from you. But we both know I can't make such promises. No one can. The only thing I can do is make the most of the time we have. And spending this time with you, making these memories as we do these things on my list, helps me feel like I am doing that." I feel my throat begin to burn and my chest tighten. "Patrick, I love you like I've never loved any other man and even if someday I am forced to leave you physically, I will still be with you."

A tear cascades down his cheek and I catch it with my thumb. I then guide his mouth to mine and our lips meet in a sweet kiss.

He pulls back a moment later and looks at me, smiling.

"If you tell anyone I didn't make it through the weekend, I'll never forgive you."

I smile and shake my head. "My lips are sealed."

Yeah, right. Wait till Epiphany hears this one!

Don't worry. I have ways of making him forgive me.

----  
**Up Next: To Do # 3 - Learn to Ballroom Dance Properly**  
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph.


	4. To Do 3:Learn to Ballroom Dance Properly

**Title**: The List  
**Author**: Steph   
**Rating**: PG  
**Pairing**: Robin/Patrick  
**Category**: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV**: Robin  
**Disclaimer**: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers**: Nope.  
**Summary**: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**Note**: Thanks for the feedback on the last part and "Can't Let Go!" So, my knowledge of ballroom dancing pretty much comes from watching 'Dancing with the Stars'. I found some info on the net and tried to incorporate it, but I didn't get too technical or into the steps of the dances. It's more about Patrick and Robin's interaction. Oh and these chapters are turning out much longer than I intended for some reason! Anyway, hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph

**--- The List: _To Do # 3 - Learn to Ballroom Dance Properly_ ---**

I silently slip into the locker room and stand behind his open locker door. I lean against the locker beside him, my arms crossed over my chest. He closes his door, revealing me. A slow smile spreads across his lips, as his eyes wash over me.

"Well, that was a pleasant surprise."

He leans forward, offering me a soft kiss on the lips. When he pulls back, I look at him, smiling.

"Guess what we're going doing this weekend."

His eyes dance playfully. "You're insatiable."

I shake my head and hit his chest. "No, definitely not that."

His lips turn downward and he pouts. He looks like a little boy who was just told he couldn't have a puppy.

"You do realize that whatever you're going to say now will only disappoint me, right?"

I hold a brochure up in front of him. His eyes slowly scan the front, as his mouth drops open.

"Rita's Ballroom Dancing Studio?" he finally chokes out.

"Yup, number 18 on my list."

He lets out a breath. "Wow, that is too bad. I have an...uh, emergency surgery...to perform on Saturday," he says with a shake of his head, as he tries (and fails) to convey sincere disappointment.

"It's Tuesday, Patrick. The word 'emergency' implies that it can't wait five days. Try again."

He bites at his lip and I can tell he's mentally berating himself for stupidly saying it was an emergency surgery. Not too quick on his feet. Of course, any surgery he could come up with I could easily check out anyway.

"I have to go to the DMV?"

"Nope."

"Jury duty?"

"Wrong again."

"Root canal?"

"Oh, come on!" I finally say, stomping my foot like a four year old. "You said you would do everything on the list with me."

His tongue runs across his bottom lip and he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me toward him. "How about I do one of the things twice, like make love to you on the beach under the stars or go skinny-dipping in the South of France? That'll make up for skipping this one."

I smile. "Funny how the ones you want to do twice involve both of us naked."

"That is funny."

"How about the nude beach then? You could wear your Beach Patrol shirt and your spandex biking shorts."

His smile fades. "I still haven't forgiven you for posting that picture in the doctor's lounge."

I shrug and then eye him for a moment, considering how best to get through to him. "You know, they say that dancing is like making love. That's how intimate it is. Just think how close our bodies will have to be," I say pressing my body into his.

"I think whoever compared making love to dancing must have been doing the first one wrong."

I groan and swat his arm. "You're doing it."

"No, I'm not," he says firmly.

"Yes, you are."

"You can keep saying that, but it won't make it true."

I meet his eyes, saying softly. "If you really love me you'll do it."

He rubs at his face. "You had to play that card."

"Yup."

He sighs in defeat. "Fine, I'll do it."

I stand on my toes and place a kiss on his lips. "Thanks."

I turn to leave, but he gently grabs my wrist and turns me back to face him. "You know, you only get one 'if you really love me you'll do it' card and you just played yours. That's it for the rest of our lives. I'm saving mine for something kinky. I sure hope you played yours wisely."

I smile. "Oh, I feel confident I did."

---

I open my door to find Patrick leaning against the frame, smiling at me.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you tonight. I thought for sure you'd be pouting somewhere," I say with a grin.

"I told you. I don't pout."

"Yes, you do. Like a four year old."

He shakes his head and walks past me. I close the door behind him. "If you're here to try to get out of this again, forget it. I don't care if you break your own legs, I'll just make you dance with crutches."

"You're cruel, you know that?" he says with a smile.

"So why are you here then?"

"Do I need a reason? You didn't honestly think you were going to spend the night without me, did you? Three months, Robin, and not one night spent apart. We have a streak to uphold."

I smile and move to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Well, what should we do? Do you have something in mind?"

"I have several things in mind," he says, licking his lips slowly, his eyes darkening.

I purse my lips and nod. "Well, I have something in mind, too."

"Oh, really. I'm all ears," he says, huskily.

I move away from him and walk to my coffee table. I hold a video up.

His eyes widen and he arches his eyebrows. "Dr. Robin Scorpio. A porn lover. Who would have guessed?"

I shake my head and laugh, as I grab a pillow off the couch and toss it at him. He catches it, his smile widening.

"It's not porn!"

"Oh, well, then I'm far less interested in your idea. Let's go back to mine."

I walk over to him and hold the video up. He reads the title aloud. "Shall We Dance."

His looks up at me. "You are not making me watch this. It's got Richard Gere in it. And he's dancing."

"It also has Jennifer Lopez. She's hot."

He puts his hands on his hips. "That's right, she plays the dance instructor, right? You know, I bet Rita is really hot, too. You know Latina women. Are you sure you want me to be around her?"

I smile and trail my finger down his chest. "I'm not worried. I trust you."

"Maybe you shouldn't," he says with a shake of his head, but can't hide his smile. "You can't teach an old horndog new tricks, you know. I could stray at any moment."

I shake my head and laugh, getting a kick out of the fact that he's so reluctant to go ballroom dancing that he's actually making a half-hearted attempt at convincing me he won't be faithful.

Unfortunately for him, I don't believe that for a second. I trust him completely and know that he would never be unfaithful to me. I know I'm the only woman for him. I know that we could be in a room full of beautiful women and he would still look at me like I was the only one on earth. He doesn't see what I do when I look into his eyes. I have no reason to worry.

"I'll take my chances," I say with a tilt of my head.

He sighs and takes the video from me. "Jennifer Lopez better get naked in this or I'm gonna be upset."

---

I look over at Patrick, as the credits begin to roll. His head is leaning back on the couch, his eyes slits and his mouth open wide.

"Patrick?"

He turns to look at me. "Sorry, I didn't think it was possible for a movie to induce a coma, but I guess you learn something new everyday."

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. Didn't you learn anything?"

He nods his head. "Yes, I learned that Jennifer Lopez shouldn't be allowed to make anymore movies."

"I meant about ballroom dancing. Doesn't it look fun?"

He sits up straight. "Fun? I know our definitions of that word differ greatly, but what exactly about that looked fun to you?"

I stand up and hold my hand out to him.

He looks at me, his brow furrowing. "What?"

"I'll show you."

He sighs, but slips his hand into mine and stands up. I step forward, pressing my body into his so that his right leg falls in between my legs. I then lift my head and look into his eyes.

"There are some very sexy dances, Patrick. Being this close to you is always my idea of fun. I think our definitions can agree on that."

He licks his lips and brings his hand up to cup my cheek. He begins to lower his lips to mine and I feel my breath catch in my chest as I ready for his touch.

But he stops just short of kissing me and instead whispers into my lips, "Fine, I agree, but no more visual aids. If you force me to watch 'Dancing with the Stars', it's over between us."

I laugh into his mouth, as he captures my lips.

---

I knock on Patrick's door and wait. I'm here to pick him up for our dancing lesson. He insisted that I pick him up. He said with the price of gas these days, he wasn't about to waste his gas driving to something 'stupid' and 'emasculating'.

My prince.

I wait a moment, before knocking again. "Patrick, it's me. Open up. We're going to be late."

I hear him pad to the door slowly and, a moment later, it swings open. My eyes fall on his figure and widen. His hair is sticking up in all directions and he's wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and boxers.

"What are you doing? Why aren't you dressed?"

"I'm sick," he croaks and then dissolves into a coughing fit.

My brow furrows and I cross my arms over my chest. "Sick? How convenient."

"Thanks for the sympathy."

"Did you take your temperature?" I ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

He slowly lifts his arm, as if it weighs two hundred pounds and is taking all of his strength. He holds a thermometer out to me.

I take it from him and read the temperature to myself. I then smile and raise my eyes to him. "112. Wow, you should be dead. You're quite a wonder."

"Stupid lamp," I hear him mutter.

I shake my head. "You're a doctor. Seriously, stooping to the light bulb trick? It's just sad, Patrick. And then you couldn't even do it right. You couldn't pull off what a ten year old can."

"I'm a little out of practice."

"Did you honestly expect to fool me with the sick fake out?"

"Worked for Ferris Bueller," he mumbles.

"I'm a doctor and you're obviously no Ferris."

I step inside and place my hands on his chest, pushing him towards the dresser.

"Now get dressed."

He groans, but pulls his t-shirt over his head.

---

"Come on," I say, as I enter the studio. Patrick is hovering by a bush. I wave with my hand. "Come on, you can do it."

I suddenly feel like I'm trying to coax a five year old into the classroom on his first day of kindergarten. I swear, if he starts crying...

Patrick crosses the threshold, his head bowed. I take his hand and pull him along as I walk in. He gives me considerable resistance, like a dog on a leash who's on his way to the vet.

I spot a woman wearing a yellow leotard and a rainbow colored skirt by the window. Someone calls her 'Rita' and I smile.

Rita, it turns out, is a slightly plump woman with frizzy gray hair and big, black rimmed glasses. She wears far too much make-up to try to hide her age, but her efforts are in vain. Her face reveals her to be at least sixty.

I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Patrick is finding the floor fascinating and has yet to see her.

"Well, there's Rita. She is...something else."

Patrick's head snaps up and his eyes follow my gaze. His lips turn downward.

I swallow to suppress my laugh, as I turn to him. "Please, try to control yourself."

He puts his hands on his hips and looks at me. "You're just loving this, aren't you?"

"What? I'm actually thinking maybe we should leave. I mean, I don't want the temptation to stray to be too overwhelming for you."

"I'm all for leaving."

"I'm feeling very threatened."

"Hey, I'll sleep with her right now if it will get me out of this," he says with a grin.

I smack his arm and shake my head, laughing. His eyes move from Rita and scan the room. His brow creases.

"Are you sure this is the right class?"

I nod. "Yeah. Why?"

He gestures to the other occupants of the room. "Uh, well, in case you haven't noticed, we're the only ones here who have hit puberty."

I chew on my lip. I was kind of hoping he wouldn't notice.

"So there's some mistake, right?"

I shake my head. "There's no mistake. There wasn't anymore room in the adult Saturday classes, so I had to sign us up for the 10 to 12 year old class."

His eyes nearly fall out of his head. "You what?"

"Sorry."

"That's it, I'm out of here," he says, as he shakes his head and spins around.

I catch him by the elbow. "Oh, come on, it won't be that bad. Maybe you'll feel less self-conscious with kids than you would with adults."

Patrick glances at a group of pre-teen girls standing a few yards away. They're talking into each other's ears and giggling, as they steal glances at him.

"They're talking about us, you know," he says.

"They're talking about you."

"Thanks, that sets me at ease."

"No, I mean they're pre-teen girls and you're a gorgeous adult male. Face it, you're the stuff of female fantasies, Patrick. No matter the age." I pause and then gesture to another corner of the room. "Plus, look at your competition. Can you blame them?"

His eyes move to a group of pre-teen boys, all of whom are skinny and pale, and look as if they'd rather be playing video games.

"Robin, this is ridiculous. I feel like a chaperone at a middle school dance."

"You'll be fine, trust me. Just focus on me and you won't even notice anyone else." I pause and then add, "Plus, after a little while, you'll grow more comfortable and you'll find yourself feeling like you belong."

He shakes his head. "That's easy for you to say. Some of those girls are taller than you. You'll blend right in."

I punch his left arm and not gently. He grabs at it with his right hand, as he runs his left hand down his face and let's out a breath of air.

---

Rita moves to the center of the room and claps her hands. "Okay, gather around, childr-..." her voice cuts off abruptly as her eyes land on me and Patrick. "...class," she finishes, recovering.

Patrick offers me an icy glare as we move to the center of the room.

"Form a circle. Boy/girl please," she directs.

Patrick and I stand next to each other. A little red-head, barely over four feet tall, with big green eyes and freckles all over her face, comes to stand next to Patrick. I saw the girls jockeying for a position next to him and I think she won out by elbowing each one in the stomach.

She looks up at Patrick adoringly and smiles, revealing a mouth full of braces.

Patrick offers her a nod and a closed-mouth smile. I look down to my right and see the smallest boy of the bunch. He's barely 4 feet tall. He has unruly, curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He's on the pudgy side and his button down shirt seems to be two sizes two small. I'm scared the buttons are going to pop off and hit me in the eye.

Rita snaps her fingers and Patrick and I refocus our attention on her. "As you may have noticed, we have two new additions to our class. Why don't you introduce yourselves? Tell us your name, what grade your...uh, what you do for a living and what's brings you to our class."

I smile. "I'm Dr. Robin Scorpio. I'm a medical researcher at General Hospital. I'm here because I made a list of things I want to do in my life and learn to ballroom dance was one of them."

Rita claps her hands and lets out a shriek. "Oh, how wonderfully fun!" She then looks at Patrick. "And you?"

He lets out a sigh and says flatly. "I'm Dr. Patrick Drake."

"Oh, a doctor!" a tall blonde girl says in a giggle to one of her friends.

Patrick licks his lips and continues. "I'm a neurosurgeon at General Hospital. And I'm here for her," he says, hooking a thumb in my direction.

Rita claps her hands again. "Oh, how romantic! Boys, are you paying attention? This is the kind of man you should aspire to be. The kind of man who will do anything to make the woman he loves happy."

I smile at Patrick and he nods his head. "Yes, you should aspire to be the kind of man who will make any sacrifice for the woman he loves, no matter how painful."

The boys scrunch up their noses and shake their heads.

Rita glances at the girls. "And girls, are you paying attention?"

The girls stare at Patrick and smile, responding in unison, "Oh yeah."

Rita gestures to Patrick. "This is the kind of man you should look for. Don't settle for anything less."

I move my eyes to Patrick. He's now blushing and his eyes are rooted to the floor. I slip my hand into his. Rita's right. The boys should aspire to be like him and the girls shouldn't settle for less. I'm so glad I didn't. Even though he desperately tried to get out of this, I know he would do anything for me, anything to make me happy. And I have a feeling that there's no way he would have let me walk into this dance studio alone, no matter what he tried to pull.

"All right, let's get started." Rita says. "Last week, we started learning the Tango. The Tango is all about emotion. You must convey emotion through your body and facial expressions. Let's review for our newcomers what we learned last week. Boys, turn to the girl to your left."

My eyes widen as I realize Patrick and I won't be dancing with each other, at least not right now. He throws me a glare, before turning to the red-head.

I look at the boy to my right and smile. "Hi, I'm Robin."

"Jeremy."

I listen as Patrick speaks to his partner. "I'm Patrick."

"Kelly," she says in a high squeaky voice.

"Last week, we practiced how to hold your partner. Keeping your upper body straight, shift your weight onto the balls of your feet. Boys, pull your partner toward you with your right hand behind her back. Girls, place your left hand on your partner's upper arm just above his biceps and push against him. Extend your other arm to the side in the usual ballroom manner. Now turn your heads so you face in the same direction. Girls to your right, men to the left. You should be dancing cheek-to-cheek. Remember, you keep your arms around each other for the entire dance."

Patrick and I are standing side by side, facing our partners. We listened to the directions, but are frozen to our spots. We have always dealt with a height difference, made easier by my penchant for three inch heels, but this is different. Our partners are barely four feet. There's no way we can pull off cheek-to-cheek. 

Kelly steps forward and attempts to embrace Patrick the way she was told to. She ends up with her face in his stomach and her arms around his waist. She doesn't seem to mind.

Patrick turns to me, jaw clenched and says sharply, "This is a hundred times creepier than anything that happened in that haunted castle."

I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing, the sight of them too funny for words. Where's my camera when I need it? Patrick notices my reaction.

"It's not funny."

"Yeah, it really-..."

I'm cut off by Jeremy stepping forward and embracing me. He ends up with his face on my breasts. I don't think he minds either, evidenced by his grin. My eyes widen and my cheeks grow hot. Patrick laughs and shakes his head.

"Not so funny, now is it?" he says.

I groan and shake my head.

Kelly looks up at Patrick. "So, you're a doctor, huh. Cool."

Patrick nods, rolling his eyes. "It is cool. Way cool."

"What kind of doctor did you say you were?"

"A neurosurgeon."

"That's like about the brain, right?" He nods again. "Awesome. When you're digging around in there, do you ever want to just like switch like parts of the brain around? You know, really mess with the person."

I see his jaw tighten. "It doesn't really work like that."

I look down at Jeremy. "So, Jeremy, what do you like to do for fun?"

"Not this. My mom's making me do this. I wanted to play football but she thinks I'm too fat."

My face softens. "Oh, no you're not. You're fine just the way you are."

Rita comes to stand between Patrick and our partners. She shakes her head at all of us. "Oh no, this is all wrong. You all have the hold completely wrong."

Patrick sighs and rolls his eyes. "Ya think?"

Rita taps her temple with her finger. "This is just not working. What to do? What to do?"

Patrick groans and looks at me, growing frustrated that she can't see what's so obvious. We, the only two adults, should be dancing together.

I shrug at him. So she's not the brightest bulb.

She finally claps her hands together and gestures to us. "I've got it. Switch partners!"

"Ding, ding, ding," I hear Patrick mutter, as he works to pry Kelly's hands off of him. She's gripping his shirt with her fingernails. He finally frees himself and moves toward me.

Luckily, I'm wearing my three inch heels. We're not quite cheek-to-cheek, but it'll do. He pulls me close to him and we turn our heads so they are facing the same direction.

"This is much, much better," he whispers in my ear.

We practice the holds a few more times and then Rita teaches us a few steps. We practice walking on our heels, keep our knees slightly bent at all times and making clipped movements with our bodies.

I expect a few crushed toes from Patrick, but I'm pleasantly surprised. He's quite light on his feet. I don't know why anything this man can do with his body surprises me anymore.

I feel Patrick's warm breath on my cheek as we move about the room.

I meet his eyes. "This isn't so bad, is it?"

"I get to hold you close to me for an hour. No, nothing bad about that."

He quickly kisses my cheek and I laugh, as he turns his head back to the correct position.

---

Rita is apparently unconcerned with us actually learning the dances, because the next week we move onto the Rumba.

I didn't even have to drag Patrick this time. He came willingly and didn't try to pull anything. The truth is, we communicate really well with our bodies, better than with our words sometimes, and I think he enjoys this aspect of our relationship. He likes how well we fit, despite our physical differences. I like having his body close to mine. I like feeling his arms around me and breathing in his scent.

I find that I'm staring at Patrick, rather than listening to the directions. He moves toward me and I realize I have no idea what we're supposed to be doing.

"What did she say?"

"You mean you weren't playing attention, Dr. Scorpio? Shame, shame," he scolds, playfully.

I grin. "I'm sorry, it's just that there's this really cute guy I can't keep my eyes off of."

"Oh, yeah, and who might this lucky guy be?"

I smile and point at Jeremy.

He laughs and shakes his head. "Cute in a Pillsbury Doughboy kind of way."

I swat his arm. "Be nice."

Rita's voice gets my attention. "Remember, the Rumba tells the story of love and eroticism between a man and a woman."

I'm wondering if this is appropriate talk for this age group, when I'm pulled from my thoughts by Patrick waggling his eyebrows at me and whispering, "We are going to rule the Rumba."

I smile, but bring my finger to my lips as a sign to be quiet.

"The Rumba is all about the lady trying to conquer the gentleman by using her womanly charms. She uses teasing and withdrawal. It is the most sensual of the Latin dances."

Patrick looks at me, his eyes darkening. "Well, I think you've already got that part down. I mean, you practically turned teasing and withdrawing into an art form before we really got together."

I smile, bringing my finger to his chest and letting it trail down. "You never could resist my womanly charms."

"Never wanted to," he says huskily, as he pulls me toward him.

I look up at him. "What did she say to do? I wasn't listening, remember?"

"We're practicing figure-eight hip rolls."

"What now?" I say, my brow furrowing.

He leans close to me and whispers. "Don't worry, I'll demonstrate."

He slowly slides his hands down my sides until they rest on my hips. He then pushes on them gently, making them move back and forth.

"A figure-eight hip roll is where the hips alternate in a forward movement," he whispers in my ear.

"Well, look at you. You're practically an expert."

He smiles and looks down at me, "When it comes to your body, yes."

I chuckle and shake my head. "No, I mean with this whole dancing thing. You're taking it seriously. Well, at least as seriously as anything that doesn't involve medicine."

He shrugs and replies matter-of-factly. "It's important to you, so it's important to me."

I bring my hand to cup his cheek and then lift my head to meet his lips. I feel his body press into mine as my tongue parts his lips. After a few moments, he slowly pulls back and smiles. 

"Watch it, Dr. Scorpio, there are children around."

I smile and nod, meeting his eyes. I reply softly, "That's right. Impressionable children. I hope they look at us and see what true, deep love looks like. I hope they never settle for anything less."

He grins, "Yeah, I just meant dial back the tongue action. This isn't HBO."

I shake my head and hit his chest, as I laugh.

---

It's been eight weeks and today's our last class. I have to admit I'm sad to see it end. Rita was a character, the kids were actually really sweet, and I loved spending so much time in close contact with Patrick.

I had to come straight from work so I told Patrick to meet me here. I walk into the studio, stopping in my tracks at the sight before me. The room is filled with candles and standing in the middle is Patrick. 

My mouth drops open, as my eyes move to him. He offers me a dimpled smile, his head tilted to the side.

"What is this? Where's the class?"

"This is a private lesson."

I walk toward him, shaking my head in disbelief. He holds his hands out and I slip mine into his.

"Where is everyone?"

"I paid Rita to move the class to an hour earlier tonight so we could have the studio to ourselves."

I smile, as he moves his hands to my waist and pulls me against him. I raise my eyes to meet his. The candlelight is making his gorgeous features glow and just the sight of him makes my breath catch in my chest.

I snake my arms around his neck and we begin to sway back and forth. He brings his hands to my face and runs his thumb across my cheekbone.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispers.

I smile and blush, dropping my gaze. I rest my head against his chest and close my eyes, simply enjoying the feel of his arms around me and the rhythmic sound of his heart beating.

We stay like that for what seems like hours until I look up at him. "So what's the occasion?"

"I don't need an occasion to do something like this for you," he replies sincerely. He then licks at his lips, "But it just so happens-..."

"I knew there was a but," I say with a grin.

His eyes are so piercing I nearly have to look away. I feel my grin fall away from my face, as my heart begins to race.

He moves his lips to my ear, "I want to know that I'll never have to spend a night away from you. Let's move in together, Robin."

A smile spreads across my lips. We haven't spent a night apart in five months, so this only makes sense and isn't exactly unexpected. But to hear him say it like that, to have him do all of this to ask me, makes it so special.

God, I love this man.

"So?" he says softly.

I reply by bringing my lips to his.

When I pull back, he says with a smile, "So I guess you support the idea?"

"I love you," I whisper. "I support the idea of knowing I'll be waking up to your face and falling asleep beside you from now on."

His smile reaches his dimple. "Well, I guess we're in agreement then."

He then cups my face and brings his lips back down to mine.

---  
**Up Next: To Do # 4 - Try to Hit a Major League Fastball**  
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph .


	5. To Do 4:Try to Hit a MLB Fastball

**Title**: The List  
**Author**: Steph   
**Rating**: PG  
**Pairing**: Robin/Patrick  
**Category**: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV**: Robin  
**Disclaimer**: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers**: Nope.  
**Summary**: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**Note**: Thanks for the feedback. Oh and just so you know since this story is spanning some time from where we are on the show, it's not the summer. In How to Get a Player to Commit, I picked up after the no strings sex thing, but months have passed for them since then, so it wouldn't make sense for it to be summer. But I needed baseball, so it's Spring Training time. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought! -Steph

**--- The List: To Do # 4 - Try to Hit a Major League Fastball ---**

Do you know what the secret of life is?

I thought I'd spend my whole life trying to figure that one out. Turns out, I didn't have to wait that long.

The secret of life is being able to wake up in the morning and feel utter contentment.

I honestly didn't think this was possible. I mean, who ever feels utterly content? There's always something that's wrong, something that's leaving you unsatisfied. When everything's going great professionally, your personal life's a mess. When your personal life's going well, your professional one's a shambles. Or maybe it's just normal, routine day-to-day worries and responsibilities that get you down.

So who would have thought that it was possible to wake up in the morning and feel utterly content? Well, I can tell you from experience, it is possible.

I stare at his face as we lie in bed. His eyelids flutter as he sleeps and I can hear him breathing. I place my hand on his cheek and caress his dimple. He smiles in his sleep sometimes. 

This is why I wake up in the morning feeling utterly content. He is why.

He makes hardships at work bearable and successes that much sweeter. He makes coming home something I look forward to, instead of dread because of the emptiness and loneliness that awaits me. He makes the day-to-day worries and responsibilities seem like little missions we can conquer together. He makes everything we do on the list a memory I will treasure forever.

These past two months have been incredible. Living with Patrick is better than I ever imagined it could be.

Sure, it's not perfect. He drives me crazy by blasting the radio in the morning as he showers. And the man doesn't seem to know how to put a dish in the dishwasher.

But those are the things that make him who he is. I wouldn't change a thing. They make me love him even more.

I love that we don't have to decide whose place to stay at anymore. My place or his place? 

There's no decision.

Our place.

I love that we come home together or I come home to him.

I love getting dressed in the morning and seeing his clothes next to mine in the closet.  
(I didn't even mind cleaning out my closet, a task I usually detest!)

I love seeing his pager and cell phone next to mine on the dresser.

I love that he'll leave little messages on the bathroom mirror for me to find when I come out of the shower and it's all fogged up.

They range from the mundane..."I'll pick up milk on my way home."

To the sweet..."Just look at how beautiful you are. Do you see what I see?"

To the dirty..."Drop the towel and imagine my hands..." Uh, well, you get the picture.

I love that he'll set his alarm five minutes ahead of mine so that he can bring me a cup of coffee just as I'm waking up.

I love that he makes me feel safe as I'm lying in his arms.

I'm pulled from my thoughts as he begins to stir. A slow smile spreads across his lips.

"Morning," he mumbles sleepily, his hand raising up to stroke my cheek.

"Morning," I reply, as he bring his lips to mine.

Oh, I forgot one thing.

I love how he never has morning breath.

The man is truly a wonder.

---

Patrick pushes me up against the elevator's panel of buttons, as his lips move to my neck.

I moan and close my eyes, my fingernails digging into his labcoat.

"You do know that the elevator is going to stop on every floor now," I breathe, as he moves his lips to my ear.

"Let it."

"That means the doors will be opening very soon and someone may get an unexpected show."

He mumbles against my throat, "Want me to pull the emergency button and stop the damn thing? Give us the time we so desperately need?"

I laugh and push gently at his chest. He pulls back and looks down at me.

He sighs and licks at his lips slowly. "Fine, but do it on an elevator is on my list, so we're going to have to work on crossing that one off eventually."

My brow furrows. "I have yet to see this alleged list of yours."

He taps his temple with his forefinger. "It's all up here."

I smile. "It seems like it only exists when you want to have sex somewhere. Is there anything on that list that doesn't involve sex?"

He grins and grabs my waist, pulling me to him. "Save orphans from a burning building, but that's just a pipe dream."

He's just about to kiss me again when we hear a ding and the doors slide open. We pull apart abruptly and put on our professional faces.

I have no idea what floor we're on, but I know it's not the one we're supposed to be on.

I move to hit the close button, when I suddenly hear a voice. Patrick's head snaps up, as his eyes land on a figure standing in front of us.

"Well, look who it is! If it isn't Pat the Rat!"

Pat the Rat? 

I look at the man standing before us. He's a little shorter than Patrick, with short light, brown hair and sparkling, blue eyes. His build is similar to Patrick's and he stands in a way that exudes confidence. His smile seems easy and genuine.

I look up at Patrick, who now has a smile of his own. He steps out of the elevator and I follow.

"Bryan Whitmore! Do my eyes deceive me?"

They move to each other and embrace in one of those manly-one-arm-pat-on-the-back deals.

Patrick pulls back first and taps Bryan on the shoulder. "What are you doing here, man?"

I just realized I've never really see Patrick with one of his old friends. I frown, as I realize he's one of those guys who refers to his buddies as 'man'.

Bryan's blue eyes cloud over and he shakes his head. "My mom's got cancer. She's here to try to get into an experimental drug program."

Patrick drops his head. "I'm so sorry. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

Bryan forces a smile. "I was about to ask you what you're doing here, but I guess the labcoat answers that question. You went through with it, huh? You became a hotshot doc. And here I was thinking you only went pre-med in college to impress the ladies."

Patrick laughs. "Yeah, well, turns out being an actual doctor is even more impressive."

"So what's your specialty?"

"I'm a neurosurgeon."

Bryan laughs so hard I think he'll bust a gut. "Oh, man, they actually let you poke around in people's brains? Do they know you once ate ten spiders on a dare?"

Oh, that's just disgusting.

So, this is what Patrick's friends were like in college? They definitely have that whole frat boy thing going on.

Patrick shakes his head, "So what did you do with your life, Bry?"

He shrugs. "Well, after the whole baseball thing didn't work out..."

Patrick looks down at me, "Bryan was an amazing pitcher. He even had scouts looking at him in his sophomore year. But then he blew out his elbow."

Bryan's eyes fill with the sadness that comes from unfulfilled dreams.

He smiles bitterly as he looks at Patrick. "Your baseball dream ended in high school, but we all don't have the brains and talent to have such an amazing fall back career. Baseball's all I've ever known. It's the only thing I'm good at. So, I worked my way up and I became a scout."

Patrick's eyes widen. "You're a Major League scout?"

"I work for the Yankees," he says with a grin.

I shake my head in disbelief. Patrick is a huge Yankees fan. His father used to take him to games when he was a kid. It's one of the memories he treasures from his childhood and the man his father once was.

"I can't believe-..." Patrick begins, but Bryan cuts him off, as his eyes land on me and he apparently notices me for the first time.

"Enough about me. I'm more interested in who this lovely lady is," he says, offering me a charming smile.

I think I can see why these two bonded.

Patrick looks at me, his face growing red. I can tell he feels bad that he forgot to introduce me.

"This is Dr. Robin Scorpio."

"Patrick, you must be good if you're able to get any work done with this distraction around."

I roll my eyes. They both must have minored in Lame Come-ons.

Bryan rubs his hands together and looks at Patrick. "You're still the untamed guy you were back in college, right? Tell me some things don't change."

Patrick looks down at me and smiles. Bryan looks from me, to Patrick, to me and then back to Patrick again. Bryan's eyes widen and his mouth drops open.

"No way."

As a reply, Patrick puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his side.

Bryan shakes his head. "No way, man! Pat the Rat has been tamed! I didn't think such a woman existed."

Patrick's smile widens and he shrugs. "Turns out, she does."

"What happened to your rule?"

My brow furrows. "What rule?" I ask.

"In college, Patrick had a rule that he would only be with a woman once, that way things could never get messy and the woman wouldn't get confused or expect anything. Well, he began to build a bit of a reputation and the women realized what he was all about. They started calling him Pat the Rat."

I look at Patrick. He groans and rubs at his face. "Can we drop the nickname please?"

Bryan looks at me, shaking his head. "So Pat the Rat has a girlfriend. Unbelievable."

"Thanks for dropping the nickname," Patrick mutters.

I smile at Bryan. "Are you in town for the night? I'm sure Patrick would love to catch up with you."

"I am. They're keeping my mom overnight to run some tests."

"Well, why don't you come over to our place for dinner then?" I say.

Bryan's mouth again drops open and I'm sure his eyeballs are going to end up rolling around on the floor.

"Our place?" he says weakly, as he stares at Patrick.

Patrick smiles, "Yes, our place."

Bryan shakes his head and then lifts his eyes to the ceiling.

Patrick's brow furrows. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the flying pigs," he says.

Patrick and I laugh. Patrick then pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and scribbles down our address.

---

"Hey, Pat the Rat, can you hand me the salad bowl?" I ask, my eyes twinkling at him.

He throws me a glare. "It wasn't funny the first fifteen times."

"Not to you maybe."

He suddenly comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my body.

"I'm not that guy anymore," he whispers in my ear.

I smile and nod, as he kisses my neck. My smile soon fades though as I turn around in his arms.

"Do you ever miss it? That life? I mean, you can't deny it's a lot easier when you don't have someone to worry about, someone to complicate matters."

"Who said I want easy?" he asks, brushing my bangs aside with his thumb.

"Well, you do enjoy a challenge."

He smiles and kisses my forehead. "That's why I enjoy you."

"Do you ever miss living alone?" I ask. "Being able to come home and do whatever you please?"

"You mean come home to an empty hotel room instead of you? Not a chance," he says with a crooked grin.

Just then, the doorbell rings. Patrick reluctantly pulls away from me and goes to answer the door. He greets Bryan and then offers him a drink as they sit down on the couch.

I eye them from my spot at the counter, moving to the edge so I can hear and see them better. I pick up a bottle of salad dressing and begin pouring it into the bowl.

Bryan shakes his head, as his eyes peruse our apartment. "I still can't believe it."

"Believe it," Patrick says.

"I mean, here you are this young, brilliant, successful doctor with devastating good looks. You could have a different woman every night of the week."

"Or I could have the right woman every night of the week," Patrick says.

I feel a smile spread across my lips.

"She must be something. She must be amazing to bring about this kind of change in you."

"She is," he says softly.

I smile and then look down, realizing that I've poured nearly the entire bottle of salad dressing into the bowl.

I blush and put the bottle down, but can't help my desire to keep eavesdropping.

"How did it happen? How was she able to get you to break the one time rule?"

He shrugs. "I didn't expect it to happen. I was just drawn to her. I found myself pursuing her, which you know I don't do. She kept resisting me. I thought that if I had one night with her then I could get her out of my system. But once just wasn't enough."

"She'd already gotten to you by then, hadn't she?"

"I was a goner," he says, smiling.

"I'm happy for you, Patrick," Bryan says sincerely.

I take a deep breath and try to control my smile, as I step into the living room.

"Dinner's ready."

---

"Oh, Patrick, you didn't!" I say.

"He did. He never turned down a dare. Danny Billoti dared him to wear nothing under his cap and gown on graduation. So, Patrick did it. Unfortunately for him, it was an extremely windy day and the entire audience got quite an eyeful!"

Patrick covers his face with his hands. I laugh and rub my hands across his back.

Bryan shakes his head, as he sips his wine. "Patrick always has been up for anything. And it usually leads to some pretty funny, embarrassing stuff."

I nod, "Oh, I know first-hand."

Patrick eyes me. "Don't," he says warningly.

"Have you heard of Beach Jail?" I ask, ignoring his glare.

I spend the next couple of minutes filling Bryan in on our adventures at the not-so-nude beach, much to Patrick's embarrassment.

"So you have a list, huh?" Bryan finally says, looking at me.

"Yes. Patrick promised to do everything on the list with me."

Patrick looks at Bryan and then me, his eyes brightening. "Hey, number 9."

My brow furrows for a minute, before I remember what number 9 is.

I shake my head and whisper, "We couldn't ask him to do that."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. It just doesn't seem right. He's our guest."

"He's my friend."

Bryan chuckles and leans toward us. "He is sitting right here, in case you've forgotten, and has excellent hearing." He pauses. "What's number 9?"

I sigh. "Try to hit a Major League Fastball."

Bryan smiles and nods at me. "Excellent. Done. Well, I don't know if a little thing like you will actually be able to hit it, but you're going to get to try."

"Really? Just like that?" Patrick asks.

"I've got connections, man. I work for the Yankees and they're good about things like this."

"Thanks," I say, offering him a smile.

"I'll see you in Florida next weekend. The players just reported for Spring Training."

My eyes widen. "Florida?" I turn to Patrick. "We can't just go to Florida for the weekend."

"Sure we can. Watch us," he replies, as he puts his arm around my shoulders.

---

Patrick's eyes widen as he takes in Legends Field. I know he'd rather be standing on the hallowed grounds of Yankee Stadium, but this seems to be working out just fine. His gaze moves from player to player.

"Wow," he breathes.

I smile at him. It's not often that I see Patrick Drake in awe, unless he's staring at me, at his reflection in the mirror, or at his surgical handiwork.

I slip my hand into his and look up at him. "This is pretty great, huh?"

"No, no...this is...incredible."

"There you two are," we hear Bryan's voice call from behind us.

We spin around to face him. He smiles and stretches his arms out.

"Amazing, right?"

"You could say that," Patrick replies.

"Well, Randy's all ready to go, so why don't you guys go put those jerseys on that I left you in the locker room."

Patrick's mouth drops open. "Randy? As in Randy Johnson? I thought you'd give us one of the nobody relief pitchers they just called up from the minors."

Bryan shakes his head and pats his shoulder. "You wanted Major League and you're going to get Major League. Only the best for Pat the Rat and his girl."

Patrick leans toward Bryan and whispers, "Please don't call me that in front of Randy Johnson."

I laugh, as Patrick looks pleadingly at him.

Bryan pats his back, saying in an intentionally loud voice, "No problem, Pat the Rat!"

Patrick lets out a soft groan.

---

I walk out of the bathroom and begin to round the corner, my eyes landing on Patrick and Bryan who are sitting on a bench in the locker room. I stop in my tracks and take a few steps back.

"So what made Robin make this list?" Bryan asks absentmindedly, as he watches Patrick button his jersey.

Patrick's hands stop mid-motion. He slowly raises his eyes to Bryan and I can see he's conflicted as to whether it's his place to tell Bryan about my HIV.

"Uh, she just wanted live life to the fullest. There was no one thing that prompted her."

Bryan shakes his head. "You're lying, man. This is me you're talking to. I always could tell when you were lying."

Patrick lets out a breath. I'm not ashamed of my HIV and I know Patrick isn't either. It's a part of who I am. It's not who I am and it doesn't define me, but it's a part of me. I don't mind him telling his friends.

"Uh, well, she made the list after she was diagnosed with...HIV."

Bryan is appropriately surprised. He shakes his head and rubs a hand across his mouth. "Jesus, I had no idea. I'm sorry."

"She's fine. Her viral load's nearly undetectable. She's probably healthier than I am," Patrick says, as he lowers his eyes.

Bryan eyes him for a long moment. "This isn't easy for you, is it?"

"Being with Robin is easy, Bryan. She's the best thing to ever happen to me," Patrick says softly, as he meet his eyes.

I feel tears begin to sting my eyes at the sincerity in his voice.

"I know. I can see that. But you know what I'm talking about."

"It's different," Patrick says quietly. "It's different with us."

"Patrick, I was there after your mother died. I was the one who stood next to you as you buried her, while your father was off drowning himself somewhere in alcohol. You came up with the rule right after that or have you forgotten? You said you would never let a woman get close enough to bring you to your knees like your mother did to your father."

"It's not the same," Patrick mumbles.

"No, it's not and you're not your father. But it can't be easy finally letting a woman in, letting yourself fall in love, knowing she has this terrible disease that could take her away from you someday."

I feel my chest tighten. I know this is something that weighs on Patrick and nothing I say or do can ever make that burden lighter.

He looks up at Bryan, his eyes shining with tears. "That's why days like this are so important. I refuse to waste even one moment with her."

Bryan smiles and pats his arm. "Well, then I'm glad to do my part."

---

Patrick and I follow Bryan onto the field. He hands Patrick a bat. Randy Johnson stands on the mound, warming up. My eyes widen at how fast the ball is going. I barely see it leave his hand before it's in the catcher's mitt.

"Oh my God, that's fast," I mutter.

Patrick smiles. "Don't worry if you embarrass yourself up there. Lots of Major Leaguers who get paid millions do the same thing on a daily basis."

I narrow my eyes and then pat him on the back. "Same goes for you."

He shakes his head, a grin appearing on his lips. "That's not gonna happen."

My eyes widen. "It's Randy Johnson, Patrick."

"I played in high school. I was great."

I speak more slowly, as if talking to a child. "It's. Randy. Johnson."

"Just watch," he says, as he offers me a quick kiss on the lips.

I shake my head. His arrogance knows no bounds. There's a reason it says try to hit a Major League fastball on my list. The fun is in the attempt. A person with a normal size ego wouldn't expect to actually be able to hit it. Personally, I'm just hoping the bat doesn't come flying out of my hands.

Bryan goes out to speak to Randy, as Patrick walks over to the batter's box. He's a lefty, which isn't surprising, since he writes with his left hand.

He puts a helmet on and then makes a big production of readying himself before actually stepping into the batter's box. He extends his arms behind him, touches his toes a few times, and then does some side-to-side stretches.

I roll my eyes. Bryan moves off the mound and comes to stand beside me.

He then cups his hands over his mouth. "Get in the batter box already! This isn't an exercise class!"

Patrick throws Bryan a glare over his shoulder. He then looks out at Randy. "Um, Mr. Johnson, please don't go easy on me. I want the real Major League experience."

"He's always been this cocky, hasn't he?" I say to Bryan.

He grins. "Some things will never change."

Randy winds up and throws. Patrick stands frozen to his spot, as he watches the ball whiz past him. He never makes a move, even though the ball was right down the middle. The next pitch is the same. He doesn't move. The third pitch garners the same result.

Bryan yells at him. "I know it's been a while since you played, but actually swinging the bat greatly increases your chances of hitting the ball."

Patrick ignores him. Randy throws another pitch and this time Patrick swings. Unfortunately for him, the ball was already in the catcher's mitt and the catcher was ready to throw it back to Randy by the time he made any move. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

Randy throws another and this time Patrick is so ready he swings before the pitch makes it halfway to home plate.

I hear him groan and mutter an expletive before roughly throwing his helmet and bat down on the ground like a child who didn't get his way.

"You're not supposed to throw equipment," I say with a smile.

He scowls at me and comes to stand beside Bryan. I pick up the bat and put the helmet on. I then step into the batter's box and take a deep breath. Randy winds up and throws a pitch. It's fast, but not nearly as fast as it seemed to be with Patrick. Still, I don't move.

He throws another and again I'm frozen. The next pitch comes and this time I'm ready. I swing as hard as I can, but miss. The same thing happens with the next pitch. He throws again. This time, I keep my eye on the ball, wait till it's the right time and then swing as hard as I can. I barely make contact with the ball. It drops two feet in front of me. But I don't care. I jump up and down, throwing my arms in the air.

Patrick walks toward me, his face red and a vein popping out of his neck. "That's not fair! The pitches were much slower for you than me!"

I roll my eyes. "Don't be a poor sport."

"I'm not! I'm just trying to point out that...it's not fair!"

I pat his shoulder, "Don't worry about embarrassing yourself up there. Lots of Major Leaguers who get paid millions do the same thing on a daily basis."

"Very funny," he mutters, as he stalks off.

Bryan puts his arm around his shoulder comfortingly. "She's something else," he says.

"One more," I say, holding up my forefinger at Randy.

I'm feeling very confident now. I look out at Randy and wait for the pitch. Again, I keep my eye on the ball, wait till the right time and then swing as hard as I can. I think I may have been a little overzealous though because I swing so hard the bat slips from my grip and goes flying behind me. My eyes widen and I bring my hands to cover my mouth, as I spin around.

I turn just in time to see the handle of the bat graze Patrick's forehead. He immediately falls to the ground.

"Oh my God!" I scream, as I run over to him.

Bryan kneels down beside him. Patrick's eyes are open and there's a tiny red spot on his forehead. 

"Are you okay? I am so sorry!" I say, falling to my knees and bringing my hand to his cheek.

Bryan looks at me. "I saw the whole thing. It barely touched him. I've never seen anyone go down so fast."

Patrick frowns at Bryan. "Thanks for your concern."

"Sorry, man, but that was pretty pathetic. Plus, what's up with your reaction time? You didn't even put your hands up. You should have caught that bat. That's what this old lady in the stands did last year. The whole stadium gave her a standing ovation. She had a walker and was blind in one eye."

I clamp my teeth down on my tongue to suppress my laugh.

Patrick shakes his head, as he moves to sit up. "I was...distracted."

"You were still whining about Robin hitting the ball."

He looks dejected. "Well, it's not fair. A once in a life time opportunity and she hits the ball. But not me. Oh no."

I shake my head in disbelief, as tears suddenly appear in his eyes. "Are you crying?"

He looks at me like I have three heads. "What? No! Although I did just get hit in the head with your bat so the pain may be causing my eyes to water."

I shake my head, a grin appearing on my lips. "You actually have tears in your eyes. All because a woman did something you couldn't."

"Those aren't tears!"

Bryan leans forward and looks into his eyes, as Patrick swats him away.

He nods, "Yup, those are tears all right."

"Thanks for your assessment," he mumbles.

I try to control my smile. "There's no crying! There's no crying in baseball!"

Bryan laughs, but Patrick just throws me another icy glare.

"Very funny. How original," he comments flatly, before lifting himself up off the ground.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," I say with a grin.

Patrick shakes his head and then stalks back into the locker room.

I shrug and look at Bryan. "Thank you very much for this. It was incredible."

"Anytime. You know, let him pout for a few days and then tell him that I told Randy to go really easy on you."

"Did you?" I ask.

Bryan nods with a grin. "Yeah, I knew it would drive Patrick crazy."

I laugh and shake my head.

---

I find Patrick sitting on a bench in the locker room, his head bowed.

I sit down next to him and hand him an ice pack. "Here. For your forehead."

He takes it from me, offering me a slight smile. "Thanks."

I run my hand down his back and place my head on his shoulder. "You know, you don't have to be the best at everything."

"Apparently."

I bring my hand to his cheek and turn his head to face me. "What's really bothering you? I know you're competitive, but this isn't like you."

He licks at his lips. "I told Bryan you had HIV."

I nod slowly. "I know. I heard you."

"I didn't mean-..."

"No, it's okay." I pause and then add, "But what does that have to do with how you're acting right now?"

"As I was standing in that batter's box, I kept thinking about how when we're doing all of these amazing things, I forget that you have HIV. I forget all the time, Robin. But since we've been living together and I've seen how regimented you have to be with your meds, it's harder to forget. That's a reminder everyday that I could lose you. And I know that there's nothing you or I can do about that. I know that we need to just enjoy the time we have together. But sometimes it just hits me."

I lift my head from his shoulder and lower my eyes to the ground. "Do you ever regret falling in love with me?"

His head snaps in my direction. He brings his hand to my chin so that I'll meet his gaze.

"Never. Not even for a second," he says softly.

"I mean, you could have anyone-..."

He cuts me off, "I don't want anyone. I want you."

I smile as I blink back tears. He takes my hand in his. "The truth is, no matter what happens in the future, I will never regret you walking into my life. I won't regret taking a chance with you. I won't regret falling in love with you. And I won't regret one moment we ever spend together."

He brings his lips to mine and offers me a sweet kiss.

I pull back and grin at him, "What about Beach Jail?"

He smiles and shakes his head. "Doesn't count. We didn't spend those excruciating three hours together. In case you've forgotten, I spent it with a three hundred pound tattooed man."

I laugh. "Oh, I'll never forget that."

He stands as my laughter subsides and extends his hand. He meet my eyes and then says softly, "Come on. Let's go home."

I smile and place my hand in his.

---  
**Up Next: To Do # 5 - Train Like an Astronaut at Space Camp**  
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph .


	6. To Do 5: Train Like an Astronaut

**Title **: The List  
**Author **: Steph  
**Rating **: PG  
**Pairing **: Robin/Patrick  
**Category **: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV **: Robin  
**Disclaimer **: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers **: Nope.  
**Summary **: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**Note **: Thanks for the feedback! I've never done anything that resembles training like an astronaut, so I did my best with what I found on the internet. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought! -Steph

**--- The List: **_To Do # 5 - Train Like an Astronaut at Space Camp_ --- 

My brow furrows as I look out the windshield. I turn to Patrick. "I know you suffered a blow to the head and your sense of direction may be a bit off, but this isn't the way to the airport."

"I know," he replies, eyes still focused on the road.

"But I thought you said we were going home."

"Change in plans."

I eye him suspiciously. "What kind of change in plans?"

He glances at me. "When was the last time you went on vacation? I mean, a real vacation? And, no, this doesn't count. "

I smile. "Well, does the Markham Islands count?"

He grins. "Being hunted my large men with guns and machetes does not qualify as a real vacation, Robin."

I tilt my head. "Hmm, then let me think. Uh, well..."

"That's what I thought. We are officially on vacation," he says firmly with a nod of his head, turning his eyes back to the road.

My mouth drops open and I shake my head. "Patrick, we're expected back at the hospital."

"No, we're not. I called Alan earlier and I took care everything. We both have vacation time accrued and we're using it. And don't worry, our patients are covered."

I smile, starting to like this vacation idea. "Okay, well, then where are we going?"

He turns to me and raise an eyebrow, a grin playing across his face. "Cape Canaveral."

"Cape Canaveral?"

"Kennedy Space Center." He pauses and holds up his last three fingers. "Number 3 on your list."

"Train like an astronaut at Space Camp?"

"That's right, baby," he says with a grin, as he turns his attention back to the road.

I chuckle softly. "Baby?"

He glances at me again. "Yeah. I was thinking we could try out the whole terms of endearment thing. I hear couples do that. I toyed with buttercup, but-..."

I laugh. "Baby's good. I like baby." My eyes wash over him. "Now what to call you?"

He grins. "Well, I think I once heard something about me being a stallion so-..."

I swat his arm and shake my head, as I laugh.

---

The next morning, Patrick and I walk into Kennedy Space Center. His eyes widen as he takes it all in. He's seems to regard it with as much awe as he did Legends Field.

"I was an astronaut for Halloween for five years straight," he says, his eyes still roaming around.

"Must have saved a bundle on costumes," I comment.

"I was obsessed with space when I was a kid," he says, turning to look down at me. "I had a space theme in my bedroom. My ceiling was painted black and I had those glow in the dark stars. My mom painted a shuttle, an astronaut, the moon and the planets on the wall. Did I ever tell you she liked to paint?" he asks, getting a faraway look in his eyes.

I shake my head. I love getting these little glimpses into his childhood. Dr. Patrick Drake, the man, is so complicated. It's hard to imagine him as a little boy, so I treasure the pieces he offers me whenever he so chooses.

"I begged my dad every summer to come to Kennedy Space Center, but he was always too busy." He pauses and smiles at me, "Thank you."

My brow furrows. "For what?"

"For finally getting me here."

I shake my head. "You're the one who got us here."

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him, as he looks down at me. "It's your list and if I weren't with you, then I wouldn't be here."

"You're an adult now. You could have come on your own."

"But I'd rather be here with you."

I smile at him. He pulls back and takes my hand in his. "Let's go check in at the Astronaut Training Experience desk."

---

We sit through a lengthy lecture on what we will be experiencing throughout the day. At the end, we're told we'll receive a special certificate from a real astronaut during our 'graduation ceremony'.

Our trainer, Chad, explains the first exercise: the Multi-Axis Trainer.

"The Multi-Axis Trainer simulates the disorientation an astronaut would feel in a tumble spin when reentering the earth's atmosphere. Astronauts use it to condition themselves for disorientation that might occur in emergency conditions during flight. It spins and twirls you in different directions and through 360° revolutions."

I turn to Patrick and whisper, "Disorientation? Well, you already experienced that yesterday when you got hit by that bat."

He throws me a glare, but it quickly morphs into a grin. He leans forward and whispers in my ear, "You experience that every time I get this close to you."

I suck in a breath. He's right. I swallow hard and turn back to Chad.

Chad goes on. "Your stomach stays centered, so nausea shouldn't occur. It shouldn't spin more than twice in a row in the same direction, so this prevents inner ear fluid shifts and the dizziness that usually results."

Chad looks around at us. "Okay, we will have a brief break before we begin the first exercise. You may explore the center and then meet back here in fifteen minutes."

I turn to Patrick. "What do you want to do?"

"I'm starving."

"We had a huge breakfast. How can you be hungry already?"

He smiles at me and waggles his eyebrows. "I think you're forgetting what we did after breakfast to work it off."

I blush. Patrick had surprised me with breakfast in bed from room service. He'd then surprised me again by joining me in the shower.

I shake my head free of the memory as I feel my body temperature begin to rise. "I really don't think it's a good idea to eat right before you go on the Multi-Axis trainer."

"He just said that nausea shouldn't occur."

"Yeah, but spinning right after you eat is never recommended, Patrick."

"Don't worry, I've got a stomach like steel. I haven't vomited since the third grade."

"What happened in the third grade?"

"We were on a field trip. We went on a nature hike. Rachel London dared me to eat five grubs. I had a crush on her and you know I never turn down a dare, so I did it."

I smile. "And?"

"And she was so impressed she sat next to me on the bus on the way home and shared her MadLib book with me."

"And?" I prompt again.

Patrick lowers his gaze. "And five minutes before we got back to school, I threw up all over her and her MadLib book."

I laugh. "So I guess you two didn't live happily ever after, huh?"

Patrick tilts his head and smiles. "You should be glad I threw up all over her. If I hadn't, we'd probably be married today, we three MadLibbing, grub-eating kids. And then where would that leave you?"

I smile, as I shake my head dramatically. "Alone and miserable."

"That's right. Now I'm going to go get a corndog at the snack bar."

"You do know you're tempting fate, right? I mean, every time you don't listen to me or say something won't happen, it does. There's a 99 chance you will reacquaint yourself with that corndog by the end of the day."

He gives me a quick kiss on the lips. "Such little faith in me."

"Not you. Your ego!" I yell after him, as he heads off in the direction of the snack bar.

---

I stare at the first person to go into the Multi-Axis trainer, chewing nervously on my lip. They strap the young woman in and she begins to spin around. Up and down and all around. I'm getting dizzy and nauseous just watching it. Soon, it's my turn.

I take a deep breath, as I'm strapped in. I focus on Patrick and he offers me a comforting smile. I squeeze my eyes closed and the trainer begins spinning. After a few moments, I realize it's not so bad. In fact, it's actually pretty fun. Exhilarating really! I gather the courage to open my eyes and I see everyone, including Patrick, spinning in front of me. I turn upside down and side to side.

Before I know it, it's over. I step off and walk to Patrick. He smiles. "So how was it?"

"Incredible. You're going to love it."

He walks over, steps in, and they strap him inside. His face suddenly pales and his hands move to grip the bars so tightly his knuckles turn white. He squeezes his eyes closed and the machine starts spinning. He never opens his eyes, but he does open his mouth, letting out a wail so loud it echoes off the walls and I'm certain is heard by everyone within a mile radius.

I lower my head in embarrassment and cover my face with my hands. I hear snickers behind me. The trainer stops spinning after what seems like an eternity and he walks off, nearly falling over as he makes his way down.

I place my hands on his chest and touch his cheek. I bite at my lip. "So was it everything you imagined it would be?"

His brow furrows. "Um, I don't think I imagined I would feel like a human bowling ball or end up with my stomach in my throat. So, no, it wasn't."

"Are you okay? How exactly is your stomach?"

He takes a deep breath and manages a grin that attempts cockiness. "Haven't vomited in twenty years, Robin. I've got a streak to uphold."

I roll my eyes.

---

The next activity is the 1/6th Gravity Chair.

"The 1/6th Gravity Chair gives trainees an idea of what it feels like to walk on the moon. It simulates the moon's gravitational pull, which is 1/6th that of the earth's," Chad explains.

I look at the chair. It's basically a harness, with springs and pulleys.

I go first. The two operators strap me in and I begin walking around. I feel myself fly through the air, loving the freedom. I can only imagine what it would feel like to experience something like this on the moon.

I finish and then run over to Patrick. He smiles at my excitement. "Oh, it's amazing. You're going to love it."

"It looks a little more tame than that trainer thing."

"It is. And it's completely liberating."

Patrick walks over, stopping and looking at the harness warily. One of the operators leaves to use the bathroom and Patrick shoots a concerned look at the one who remains, "Um, that harness...where it goes, is that going to be...uh...comfortable?"

I see him gesture downward and I realize his concern. The harness has a strap that goes between your legs, up and then wraps around your waist. As a woman, I felt no discomfort. But as a man...well, that may be another story.

The young operator, who looks like a surfer with his shoulder length blonde hair and tanned skin, shrugs. "I don't know, dude. Today's my first day." He smiles and pats Patrick on the back. "Hey, you're my first dude! I guess we're going to find out!"

Patrick's eyes widen and he throws me a pleading look. It's then that I realize that the other operator is his trainer. Come to think of it, Jake did seem to be a little confused by the harness when I was being strapped in.

Patrick hesitantly steps into the harness.

"And I think you have to tighten this right here," Jake says.

"You think?" Patrick says.

Jake nods. "And then pull on this thingamabob."

"Thingamabob? Is that the technical term?" Patrick croaks."

Just then, Jake pulls on the 'thingamabob' and Patrick's eyes nearly bulge out of his head. He then hits Patrick on the back so hard it lifts him off the ground.

Patrick goes flying through the air, as his face turns redder and redder. I can tell he's in considerable pain.

I wave at Jake, but he just gives me two thumbs up.

Patrick's arms and legs fly out uncontrollably. His mouth hangs open and it looks like he's trying to scream, but no sound is coming out.

Finally, he manages to reach the ground. Jake unstraps him and Patrick does a little duck walk to me.

I smile comfortingly and put my arm around his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He takes a deep breath and swallows. I swear his voice is an octave higher. "Okay? Sure, I mean, I was hoping I would get to experience what it feels like having my genitals squeezed like they're in a bear trap. Who doesn't dream of that as a kid?"

I look downward and wince. "So I guess you're not okay."

"Well, I'll never be able to reproduce and I sure hope you don't want to have sex with me...well...ever again. But other than that? Peachy."

I feel myself wanting to laugh, but I resist.

It's not funny. It. Is. Not. Funny.

---

Patrick sits out the Zero-G wall, which involves harnesses. I offered to get him ice, but he refused. I guess he didn't feel comfortable sitting around with an ice pack on his private area. Who can blame him?

I finish and walk over to him. "Are you ready for the last exercise? We get to do Mission Control for a simulated space shuttle mission. That sounds fun and...safe."

"I wonder when I'll be able to walk normally again," he comments absentmindedly.

He stands up and I place my hand in his as we head to the space shuttle simulator.

"Maybe this will take your mind off of it."

He scowls at me. "Spoken like a true woman."

We're each assigned a specific role by our trainer based on our performance throughout the day.

"Okay, Robin, you're the Commander. Excellent job today."

I smile widely. Yes, Commander! I'm responsible for the vehicle, crew, mission success, and safety of flight. Everything!

He assigns the other people in our group: pilot, mission specialist, mission control officer.

Patrick waits impatiently, tapping his foot.

"All right, let's get started," Chad says, clapping his hands.

Patrick raises his hand slowly, like a shy child in school. "Uh, what about me?"

Chad makes a little "o" with his mouth. "Oh, you. Yes, sorry. Patrick, since you didn't complete all of the exercises you'll have to be the Payload Specialist."

That doesn't sound so bad to me, but Patrick looks as if he's just been slapped in the face. "But they aren't even involved in the operation of the Space Shuttle," he whines.

Chad nods, "No, they aren't and they're not on every mission." He pauses and then says, "But they are still very important. A payload specialist is an engineer who flies on the shuttle when a space experiment using special payloads which require a high level of professional knowledge will be conducted."

Patrick's face falls. I hook my arm through his. "That's important."

"That's easy for you to say, Commander."

I turn to Chad, trying to find something for Patrick to get excited about. "So what kind of space experiment will he be doing?"

Chad shrugs. "We're not doing one." He then turns to Patrick, "But you can still sit on the shuttle."

"Gee, thanks," he mumbles.

---

During the shuttle, we're given a problem that we have to solve as a team. Our problem turns out to be a fuel cell glitch seconds after "liftoff". We're told the center's main engine nozzle is leaking hydrogen. The shuttle's main engines shut down, resulting in a 35 foot per second fall in velocity.

We begin to discuss our options. Patrick sits in the corner, hanging his head dejectedly and fiddling with switches and dials.

He mutters, "Houston, we have a problem," to himself.

I turn away from the group. "Hey, Patrick, any ideas on what we should do?"

He turns to me, his eyes brightening. He smiles and I can tell he's happy that I'm trying to include him. "Uh, well, I guess we should try to save fuel."

"That's a great idea!" I say, a little too excitedly.

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly at me, but his smile widens. The other "crew members" nod their heads.

"Any ideas on how to do that?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Well, I saw this movie once where they had this same problem. The crew decided not to perform a maneuver that would have let them photograph the external tank from an overhead window, which saved fuel."

Our fellow crew members look at him skeptically. The pilot, a college kid named Fred, shakes his head. "That sounds too simple."

The Mission Specialist, Penny, nods her head in agreement.

I look at Patrick, as he lowers his gaze.

I shake my head, saying firmly. "Well, I'm the Commander and I say that's what we're going to do."

We don't perform the maneuver and soon the mission is over.

Chad enters and smiles at us. "Nice job. Most crews usually overthink it and overlook the obvious. So who's idea was it not to perform the maneuver?"

I hook my thumb at Patrick. "It was-..."

He shakes his head and looks at me. "It was a team effort."

I smile and link my hand with his. I think he may be growing.

---

I look at Patrick as we sit in our seats at the 'graduation ceremony', waiting for our names to be called.

"So, I know this wasn't exactly what you dreamt of as a kid, but did you still have fun?"

He smiles and nods. "If you weren't here with me, I'd probably be pouting. Yes, I said pout. But being here with you tends to make me forget anything unfortunate that's happened."

I smile and kiss his cheek, taking his hand in mine.

"Hey, you didn't vomit. That's gotta count for something. Proved me wrong."

He offers me a crooked grin. "That really does make everything worth it."

I swat his arm and then turn my attention to the stage. They begin calling names and we each receive our certificate from Arnold Danfield, a real astronaut. Mr. Danfield holds up another certificate.

"We have a special award that we give to the person who performs best in the shuttle mission. Now this person was pretty humble, but his crew members and trainer sang his praises and we felt he deserved this award. So, without further ado, would Dr. Patrick Drake please come up?"

Our eyes widen. Mine widen because I think this must be the first time the words 'humble' and 'Dr. Patrick Drake' have been used in the same sentence. Patrick's widen from sheer shock.

He turns to me with a huge smile and, for a moment, I see the little boy he once was shining in his eyes. He leans over and kisses my lips, before walking up on stage. I watch, unable to control my smile and feeling so proud of him.

He walks to Mr. Danfield and shakes his hand. I watch, as he continues to shake his hand long after the normal handshake time has come and gone.

Okay, let go. Let go. He must just be nervous.

His face suddenly pales and he purses his lips, his cheeks ballooning out.

Oh no. Don't. Patrick, don't.

But it's too late. He jerks forward and vomits all over Arnold Danfield, a real-life astronaut.

I squeeze my eyes closed and cover my face with my hands, as laughs and shocked gasps fill the room.

---

Patrick closes his eyes and leans his head back on the folding chair, as I apply a wet face cloth to his forehead.

"Are you feeling better?"

He opens one eyes. "My stomach feels fine. My dignity on the other hand..."

His voice trails off.

"It could have happened to anyone," I say comfortingly.

"There goes my streak."

"But what a way to end it. I mean, an astronaut," I say helpfully.

"Is that supposed to be comforting?" he asks.

I shrug. "If you have to ask, then I guess not."

He lets out a groan. "Well, go ahead."

My brow furrows. "What?"

"Say you told me so. I didn't listen to you. You told me not to eat that corndog and look what happened."

"Patrick, that was hours ago. We had lunch since then. It wasn't the corndog."

He lets out another groan. "That's even worse."

"Why?"

"Because that means I vomited on an astronaut for no reason at all."

"Maybe you were nervous. Or maybe you have a bug."

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. "I am pathetic. I'm a poor excuse for a man. Really, you should have figured this out back in the Markham Islands. If you want to leave me, now's your chance. I'll understand."

I smile and bring my hand to his cheek. "But you're my poor excuse for a man."

He sighs and opens his eyes to look at me. "Again, is that supposed to be comforting?"

My smile widens and I meet his eyes. "I could never leave you. I love you just the way you are."

"Sweet, but I'm still not hearing any denial of the poor excuse for a man part."

I shake my head. "You're a wonderful, brave man. Okay?"

"Thank you," he says, smiling, as he weakly raises his head and begins to bring his lips to mine.

I wrinkle my nose and place my hands on his chest.

"What?" he asks, forehead wrinkling.

"Your breath smells like vomit," I whisper.

He lets out a moan and drops his head back down. I smile and kiss his forehead.

----

**Up Next: To Do # 6 - Take a Swamp Tour and Learn How to Wrestle an Alligator**   
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph


	7. To Do 6: Swamp Tour, Wrestle Alligator

**Title**: The List  
**Author**: Steph   
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Pairing**: Robin/Patrick  
**Category**: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV**: Robin  
**Disclaimer**: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers**: Nope.  
**Summary**: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**Note**: Thanks for the feedback!

**--- The List: To Do # 6 - Take a Swamp Tour and Learn How to Wrestle an Alligator ---**

My eyes slowly open, a smile spreads across my lips and I giggle, as I feel Patrick's soft lips slowly trailing up the bare skin of my back. He continues upward, kissing the back of my neck. I feel his warm breath as his mouth reaches my ear.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty."

I turn onto my back and look up at him, as he hovers above me, a grin upon his lips.

"You're much better than an alarm clock," I say, as I raise my hand and cup his cheek.

He lowers his mouth down to mine. His tongue dives in, as his hand slides up my thigh and then my torso, his fingertips skimming my breasts and causing goosebumps to appear on my skin.

I pull back and smile up at him. "I guess you proved last night that two days was all you needed to recover enough to make love to me again."

He smiles and kisses my throat. "I think I proved that twice last night."

I bring my fingers to the back of his head, grasping at the hair at the nape of his neck. He begins trailing kisses down my chest. I close my eyes, arching my back, as I let a little moan escape.

He's quickly pushing me over the edge and I know we're headed for a repeat performance of last night. His lips move up again and find my ear. My breath catches in my chest, as he opens his mouth and I feel his warm breath again.

"We're doing number 10 today," he whispers.

I laugh, "Are you now numbering your sexual maneuvers?"

"The list," he breathes, as he nuzzles my neck.

I mentally go through the list, as I try to remember what number 10 is. I come up blank, mostly because he's disorienting me more than anything at space camp ever could.

"What's number 10?" I ask, as I let my fingers skim the length of his nicely toned back.

He moves back to my chest and begins making his way to my breasts. I squeeze my eyes closed tighter, as another soft moan passes through my lips.

His face is now nestled in between my breasts, making his voice emerge muffled. "Swamp tour, wrestle an alligator."

My eyes fly open and my hands immediately grasp the sides of his head. I jerk his head upward, so that he'll look at me. His lips are swollen and his eyes liquid with desire.

"What did you just say?"

"Number 10 is take a swamp tour and learn how to wrestle an alligator," he replies matter-of-factly.

He makes a move to kiss my lips, but I wriggle out from beneath him and sit up against the headboard, pulling the sheet up around me. He drops his head and sighs.

"Way to ruin the mood!" I snap at him.

He lifts his head and smiles. "What? Reptiles don't turn you on?"

I grin wickedly. "You know you turn me on, baby."

He shakes his head, his lips curling. "I guess I set myself up for that one."

My smile fades, as I return to the item on the list that makes me shiver. "Why would you bring that up right now?"

"Why not? We're in Florida, which, in case you're unaware, has swamps and alligators. If not now, then when?"

"How about never?" I eye him for a long moment. "You brought it up now while you were disorienting me because you figured I'd agree to just about anything."

He smiles. "Well, you have agreed to some pretty crazy things while I'm working my magic. I'm holding you to-..."

"I'm not doing it. I'll do a swamp tour, but I'm not wrestling any alligators," I say firmly, as I cross my arms over my chest.

He groans. "Robin, it's your list. You put it on there, not me."

"Yes, but I was young and stupid when I made that list. I shouldn't be held to it now, as an older, wiser adult."

He shrugs. "Fine, don't do it. You probably couldn't handle it anyway. Too dangerous."

I narrow my eyes at him. "I know what you're doing and it won't work."

"Who's doing anything? You don't want to do it, so we don't do it. I mean, so what if there's one thing left on the list that you can never cross off? We all live with regrets, right?"

I set my jaw. "I'm not giving in."

"I mean, when we tell our children about our list adventures and they want to know why mommy didn't do number ten, you can just tell them-..."

I smile as he mentions 'our children'. Before we got together, Patrick said he didn't want children, mostly because of his issues with his father. We haven't really discussed it since we became a couple, but he knows I want to be a mother and his relationship with his father has improved greatly over the last few months. He's made little comments here and there, including this last one, which make me hopeful that he's changed his mind.

Plus, he did promise to do everything on the list with me. And that includes number 26.

I finally shake my head, sighing. "Fine, I'll do it."

He grins, gives me a quick kiss on the lips, and slides off the bed, "Great. Get dressed. We leave in an hour."

He's good. He's really good.

---

I slip my laptop out of my bag and open it up, as we drive to the swamp where we'll be going on our airboat tour.

He throws me a sideways glance. "You brought your laptop? What are you going to do? Hit the alligator over the head with it?"

"I'm just doing a little research."

"Hey, we're on vacation. No work."

"It's not work," I reply, as I perform an Internet search and then hit a link for an article on about wrestling alligators.

He turns his attention back to the road.

I read aloud from the article, "Three years ago, a wrestler named Kenny Cypress got too up-close-and-personal with one of the scaly critters when his head became jammed between its jaws. Two men and a crowbar were needed to free Cypress, who suffered a fractured jaw and other injuries."

He looks at me, a smile playing across his lips. "I know what you're trying to do and it won't work."

I shrug innocently. "I'm not doing anything. Just trying to be informed." I shake my head and let out a whistle. "Two men and a crowbar. Fractured jaw."

I reach up and run my fingertips across his jawline. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. "Well, at least your looks aren't your money maker." I pat his cheek. "Such a nice jaw though. I'd hate to see anything happen to it. What a shame that would be."

He simply shakes his head at me. I look back at the computer screen and continue reading the article. "In February, Seminole Chief, James Billie, lost a finger wrestling a gator in front of about 100 tourists. Perhaps the chief was a bit rusty -- it had been a decade since he'd tussled with one of the beady-eyed brutes."

Patrick's eyes move to his hands, which suddenly seem to be gripping the steering wheel a little more tightly.

I bring my hand up and run it across his long, slender fingers. "Now those are part of the money maker. You're livelihood. But it was only one finger. I mean, you could probably still be a pretty decent brain surgeon with only nine fingers," I say, nodding my head. "Plus, that guy was rusty. And you...well, you have...no experience at all with alligators."

His jaw clenches, as I look back at the article. "In October, a Seminole Everglades guide, known as Swamp Owl, had a hand crushed when a 10-foot, one-eyed gator named Bubbles chomped down on it. Owl, also known as Paul Morrison, had extensive reconstructive surgery following the mishap, which occurred during an exhibition at a private function."

His knuckles are now white, as he twists his grip on the steering wheel.

I shake my head. "Ouch! That's gotta hurt! A crushed hand. Hands, your precious hands. They're the real money maker. I mean, an accident like that could end your career."

He finally snaps his head in my direction. He pries one hand off the wheel and slams my laptop shut.

"Sometimes ignorance is bliss, Robin. As a medical researcher, I'm sure you have a problem with that concept."

"I just like to be fully informed before I risk my limbs. I thought you would feel the same way."

"Well, I don't," he says, as he turns his eyes back to the road.

I smile to myself.

---

We arrive at the swamp airboat tour, along with eight other people. One is a family of four. Parents, a girl about ten and a boy about seven. The other four is composed of two couples. One elderly couple and one young couple, who made a point of making sure everyone knows they're on their honeymoon. They can't keep their hands off each other and keep giving each other sickeningly sweet looks.

Patrick leans down and whispers in my ear, "Ten bucks if you push them overboard."

I have to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing. Although I can't help but wonder if Patrick and I don't come off a bit like that couple sometimes. I guess the bickering balances it out though.

Our guide is a very handsome man about our age, named Sam. He has short, wavy blonde hair and eyes as blue as the ocean. His face has sharply defined features and his body is lean, but toned, accentuated by a golden tan.

Sam gives us some safety tips before we board the boat. "The boat moves at speeds up to 45 mph, but will slow from time to time to allow for photo opportunities of our local wildlife." He stops for a moment before going on. "A few guidelines to follow. Please do not throw food in the water. It may attract alligators and feeding them only encourages them to become bolder. If an alligator comes up close to the boat, do not try to touch it or splash water. It poses you no harm if not provoked. In fact, please do not put your arms into the water at any time. Movement and splashing can attract alligators that think a prey animal is injured and vulnerable." He pauses and then nods at us. "Okay, I think we're ready to go."

We board the boat and take our seats. Patrick and I sit at the back. The little boy sits next to Patrick. He smiles up at him and Patrick offers him an awkward smile in return. He really is uncomfortable around children and doesn't seem to know how to interact with them.

He turns away from the little boy. He puts his arm around me and pulls me close to him.

We enjoy the peaceful ride for a while, taking in the views and the wildlife we see along the way.

After about a half hour, the little boy looks up at Patrick. "Do you like alligators?"

Patrick snaps his head downward, surprised that the boy is speaking to him.

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

The boy's blonde hair sways back and forth as he nods his head. "I love alligators! They are so cool."

Patrick nods politely, but throws me an annoyed look.

The boy goes on. "I hope one comes right up to the boat when we stop. I'm going to pet it."

Patrick shakes his head. "The guide said not to do that."

The boy shrugs. "I don't care." 

Just then, his mother pulls a bag of goldfish crackers and some beef jerky out of a backpack.

"Adam, are you hungry?" she asks.

He nods and snatches the food from her. He holds a piece of jerky up to Patrick. "Want some?"

Patrick wrinkles his nose. "No, thanks."

"I'm going to feed the alligator goldfish and jerky."

Patrick's jaw clenches. He's beginning to lose it.

"I know you're small and probably have the attention span of a gnat, so maybe you didn't hear the guide, but he said not to feed the alligators."

"I don't care what he said."

"It's dangerous."

"You're a baby."

"You're a brat," Patrick snaps.

My eyes widen and I hit Patrick's arm. "Patrick!"

"Mom, this guy called me a brat!" Adam says, turning to his mother, while jerking his thumb in Patrick's direction.

I swear I see Patrick mutter 'tattler'.

His mother looks up at Patrick and shakes her head, "I'm sure he didn't mean it, honey."

"Yes, I did," Patrick states matter-of-factly.

I hit him again, this time harder.

He turns to look at me. "What? He started it."

"How old are you again?"

"He called me a baby," he says, bordering on a whine.

I speak slowly, "He's seven. You're not."

He offers me a grin. "Name calling is not acceptable at any age, Robin."

"And even less so at twenty-nine, especially when directed at a first grader."

Patrick rolls his eyes and proceeds to pout. Adam turns to him again, squinting his eyes as he cranes his neck to look up at his face.

"Your face is weird."

"So is yours," Patrick mumbles.

I groan. This is the man I love.

Adam brings his forefinger up and pokes Patrick's dimple. "Why don't you have one of those holey things on the other side of your face?"

Patrick flinches and swats him away. I have to chew on my lip to keep from laughing. Patrick finally gets up and moves to my other side, while throwing Adam a glare. I half-expect Patrick to stick his tongue out at him.

I pat him on the back. "I'm proud of you. You walked away. You were the bigger man." I pause and then add, as I tilt my head, " Oh, wait, you were the only man."

He flashes me an insincere smile, before turning away from me.

---

The boat finally stops and Sam tells us we can take photographs now. Patrick and I pull our cameras out of my bag. I snap a shot of some birds and an alligator far off in the distance. Patrick decides he wants a better shot of the alligator and kneels on the bench. He leans forward over the side.

I shake my head. "Patrick, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"I'm fine," he says, as he leans farther over.

"Please listen to-..."

Just then, Adam comes up behind Patrick and gives him a hard shove. My eyes widen and I bring my hands up to cover my mouth, as Patrick goes tumbling over the side and lands in the water with a splash.

Adam erupts into a fit of giggles. His parents miss the entire thing. I move to the side and lean over, stretching my arms out to Patrick. He stares at me dejectedly, his hair falling in front of his face and his shirt plastered to his body. My shock soon fades away and I find myself unable to control my laughter as I look at him.

"It's not funny!" he yells, as he looks around for any creatures that might be lurking nearby.

"You always say that and yet it always is!"

He wades closer to the boat and reaches his arm up. He grabs my arms and I begin to pull backwards. Much to my surprise, he yanks on my arms and I come flying out of the boat. I land with a loud splash next to him.

My bangs fall in front of my face, as I glare at him.

He starts laughing, as he shakes his head. "You're right, it is funny."

I glare at him. "There are alligators in this water, Patrick!"

Just then, we hear Adam calling to us from above. "Remember, no splashing!"

He then starts throwing goldfish crackers into the water.

What a brat!

The others on board reach their arms out to us. I glance behind me and spot the alligator that was far off in the distance now coming towards us. My eyes widen in fear and I gesture wildly at the reptile, but no words come out of my mouth. Patrick follows my gaze and gestures. His mouth drops open. He turns back to the people on board.

"Get us out of here!"

Patrick and I grab onto their arms and scramble back on board. We take deep breaths, as we notice that the alligator is now only a few yards away.

We scowl at Adam, who offers us a huge grin, revealing two big holes where his teeth should be. Patrick and I resist the urge to hurl Adam into the water and give the gator his lunch.

Instead, Patrick does the next best thing. He leans down and whispers, "There's no such thing as Santa, the Tooth Fairy, or the Easter Bunny. It's all a big lie." He then pats Adam's shoulder. "Enjoy the rest of your childhood."

Normally, I would hit Patrick for saying that, but I just rub his back and nod at Adam.

Adam's bottom lip comes up to cover his upper and tears fill his eyes.

"Mom!" he wails.

---

Ten minutes later, we're back at our car.

"Let's go back to the hotel," I say.

"We're supposed to go alligator wrestling."

My eyes widen. "Patrick, we're soaked and we smell like garbage. Actually, I wish I smelled like garbage."

"Fine, if you want to back out." He then mutters, "Chicken."

I groan loudly. "All right, let's go."

He smiles and we drive the ten minutes to Gator World. We step out and I spot a souvenir shop.

"You check us in and I'll see if I can get us some clean, dry clothes," I say.

Five minutes later, Patrick and I meet up back outside. I hand him his shirt.

"They didn't have pants or shorts, so we'll have to leave those on and just change our shirts. The only shirts they had were about Gator World."

He nods and then holds the black shirt with red lettering up, reading it aloud. "I Survived Gator World and All I Got Was This Lousy T-shirt and 100 Stitches."

He purses his lips at me, saying insincerely. "Nice. Thank you very much."

I then hold mine up to him. He also reads it aloud. "I Survived Gator World. My Boyfriend Didn't."

He sets his jaw. "That's great, Robin. Very nice. Really inspires confidence."

I shrug. "I thought you weren't afraid."

"I'm not," he says, lowering his gaze to the ground.

"Last chance to back out," I say.

"Not a chance."

---

Patrick and I watch as George, a man in his sixties with shocking white hair pulled back in a ponytail, demonstrates how to wrestle an alligator.

My heart starts to beat wildly in my chest and my palms begin to drip with sweat. I look over at Patrick. Beads of perspiration are dripping down his face and he keeps shifting his feet.

On the way in, Patrick decided I should go first. You know him, it's the gentlemanly thing to do. Plus, this way, if I lose a hand or a finger...or, you know, die...he'll have a valid excuse not to go through with it.

George smiles at us. "You know, they say there's no such thing as a bad alligator wrestler. If you're bad, you're dead."

George proceeds to nearly bust a gut laughing, while I resist the urge to run away as my feet will carry me. I look at Patrick and his face pales.

George repeats the process again, this time without demonstrating. "First, we'll tie a rope around your waist. Then you'll slowly approach the alligator. Once you're on top of it, you'll grab its snout and flip it over. Then you'll place your chin under the alligator's lower jaw so you can free your hands and tie the alligator's mouth shut. That's how the Seminole Indians did it." 

I feel my breath catch in my chest. I watched George do it, but for some reason it seems even scarier the way he's describing it. 

George gestures to me. I take a deep breath as I step into a protective suit that covers my entire body. Patrick smiles comfortingly at me right before I place the head covering on. George then ties the rope around my waist and I pull a pair of gloves on. 

I inhale and exhale slowly, as George gives me a gentle shove in the direction of the alligator. I walk slowly toward him, stopping several times to collect myself. Finally, I'm standing over him. It's one of the smaller alligators since we're not professionals, but he's still scary as hell.

I stand over him and quickly move my hands to grab his snout. We struggle for a few moments as his body thrashes about, but I manage to flip him over. I then take another breath before putting my chin under his jaw to free my hands. I move my hands to the rope and then bring it up to the alligator's mouth to tie it shut.

My eyes widen and I stand up. I did it! I did it! Everyone starts clapping. I turn to find Patrick beaming, a smile spread from ear-to ear.

George approaches me. "Excellent job, Robin."

He then unties the rope and helps me out of the suit. I run over to Patrick, who pulls me into his arms.

"You were amazing. You are amazing," he whispers in my ear.

I smile and then pull back, touching his cheek. "Your turn."

He swallows hard and takes a step back. "Uh, I'm, uh, not feeling so well. Must have been something I ate."

My eyes widen. "Oh, no you don't. Not the sick thing again. You are not backing out, Patrick! Not after you forced me to go through with it!"

"I did not force you."

"You played your little mind games. You're doing it."

I grab his arm and then shove him towards George. Patrick goes as white as a sheet, as George applies the suit, head covering, gloves and rope around his waist. He then gives Patrick a gentle shove, but he stands rooted to his spot. He gives him another shove, but Patrick still doesn't move. Finally, George takes both hands and pushes as hard as he can on Patrick's back.

Patrick falls forward. He then walks slowly, turning to look over his shoulder at me every step or so. He finally reaches the alligator and stands over him. After two full minutes of not moving, during which time I wonder if someone can die and still remain standing, Patrick finally makes a move.

He bends down and clamps his hand over the alligator's snout. The alligator puts up a struggle, but Patrick manages to flip him over fairly easily and quickly. He's just about to put his chin under the jaw to free his hands, when one hand slips a bit. It's enough for the alligator to wriggle free of his grip. The alligator's snout twitches and his mouth immediately moves to Patrick's upper leg, instead of his arm, which is closer. He opens his mouth and Patrick screams, just as he bites down. My mouth drops open. The suit protects him, but the alligator seems obsessed with that area of Patrick's body and won't let go. It seems Patrick's lower body is again in danger.

Patrick begins to dance around, vigorously shaking his leg back and forth to try to free himself from the gator. He lets out piercing little yelps and I'm pretty sure only dogs can hear him at this point.

George runs over and quickly manages to pull the alligator off him. Patrick runs toward me so fast, he looks like one of those cartoon characters whose feet don't touch the ground.

I put my arm around his shoulder and kiss his cheek. George walks over to Patrick, as Patrick removes the head covering and suit, panting with fear.

"I've never seen anything like that. He went straight for your upper thigh, not your arm, which would be the normal target. It was like he smelled food or something."

Patrick shrugs and then sticks his hands in his jean pockets, as he's prone to do. His eyes widen, as he pulls something out of his pocket. My gaze follows his hands. In his fingers, are three sticks of beef jerky.

Patrick looks at me and shakes his head back and forth. "Guess who."

I bring my hand to his cheek, "Are you really okay?"

"That kid nearly killed me. Twice."

"He's just a kid. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. It was just a prank," I say, hoping one bad seed doesn't turn Patrick completely off the idea of having children.

Patrick looks more closely at the jerky and notices a note wrapped around it. He unravels the piece of paper and looks at it. The note is written in red crayon.

"Remember, don't feed the alligators."

I bite my lip to suppress my laughter. Patrick shakes his head and drops the jerky and the note to the ground.

"If the devil ever takes human form, he'll be Adam."

This time I allow my laugh to flow freely from my mouth.

---

Patrick and I head back to the car. We get in and I look over at him. "Let's go home. For real this time. I'm ready to go back to Port Charles."

"Well, we'll leave, but we're not going to go back to Port Charles just yet. Close, but not quite. We still have a few days left on our vacation. I want to do one more thing on your list."

"Haven't you suffered enough abuse over the past few days to last you a while?"

He flashes me a grin. "You haven't see abuse till you've met my family."

My brow furrows. "Excuse me?"

"My aunt, uncle, and their kids live in Jersey. I figured we'd fly back, but to Jersey first."

"What's there to do in Jersey on my list?"

"Six Flags and Kingda Ka, the highest roller coaster in the country." He smiles. "Number 22."

I nod my head. I can do anything after wrestling an alligator. Riding the highest roller coaster in the country and meeting Patrick's family is a piece of cake compared to that.

Nothing scares me anymore.

---  
**Up Next: To Do # 7 - Take a Ride on the Highest Roller Coaster in the Country**  
The snippets of the article Robin read are from a real CNN article on alligator wrestling. Here's the link in case anyone's interested. It was just luck they mentioned fingers and hands. Worked out well! http/archives. .


	8. To Do 7: Ride the Highest Roller Coaster

**Title**: The List  
**Author**: Steph   
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Pairing**: Robin/Patrick  
**Category**: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV**: Robin  
**Disclaimer**: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers**: Nope.  
**Summary**: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**Note**: Thanks for the feedback! Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph

**--- The List: To Do # 7 - _Take a Ride on the Highest Roller Coaster in the Country_ ---**

I turn to Patrick, as we near his Aunt's house in Jackson, New Jersey. "So, what did your Aunt say when you called and told her you were coming up for a visit?"

His eyes remain focused on the road. "I didn't call her."

My brow wrinkles. "What do you mean you didn't call her?"

"She's always says I can drop by whenever I want," he says with a shrug.

I sigh. "Okay, first of all, when people say that, they never really mean it. And second of all, even if they do, they certainly don't mean 'drop by' for a couple of days. Patrick, you can't just go over there and expect to stay for a couple days without giving her any advance warning. It's rude. She'll want to make preparations. "

"She won't care. She's very easy-going and laid-back. She'll just stick us in a bedroom with a couple bottles of water and a bag of Cheetos."

"Gee, I may get spoiled," I mutter. "So tell me about this family of yours."

He glances at me. "Well, Aunt Ginny was the youngest of my grandmother's five children. My mother was the oldest. You know what they say about the youngest. By the time Aunt Ginny rolled around, my grandmother was so tired that she tended to get away with a lot. She's very free-spirited and opinionated. She says whatever pops into her head."

"She sounds interesting."

"That's one way to describe her," he says with a grin. "Her husband, Brian, is in sales and travels a lot, so that leaves her home alone with their seven kids a great deal of the time."

My eyes nearly fall out of my head. Seven kids?

"Seven kids? Do people still do that?"

He smiles. "Irish Catholics do. At least a few. My mom's maiden name was Fitzpatrick and my aunt married a Malloy. Let's see, there's the oldest, Seamus, who's eighteen and is about to graduate from high school. Then there's Maureen, she's sixteen. Margaret's fourteen. Mollie's twelve. Noticing a pattern here? They're all two years apart. My Aunt spent most of the 90's pregnant. Where was I? Oh, yeah, Riley's ten. Eileen's eight. And Liam is six."

I shake my head, feeling dizzy from just the rundown. How does she do it?

"She must be a very busy lady."

"She home schools all of them, except for Seamus, who convinced her to let him do his Senior year at a public school."

"That must be challenging. What made her decide to home school them?"

Patrick turns and offers me a crooked grin. "She didn't really 'decide' anything. She was sort of forced to home school them."

I arch an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'sort of forced'?"

"After an...incident...got them kicked out of their parochial school."

I arch an eyebrow. "What about public schools?"

"Aunt Ginny figured she'd end up spending so much time at school in the principal's office, that she might as well just home school them."

Oh no. These kids sound like bad news.

I tilt my head. "So what was the incident?"

Patrick's lips curl into a smile and I can tell he had an incident or two in academic past. "Well, the oldest three attended St. Mary's since kindergarten. When Seamus was in fifth grade, he, Maureen and Margaret decided to play a prank on their principal. They love to play pranks. Nuns in Catholic schools are pretty much a thing of the past, but St. Mary's still has one: its principal, Sister Marion. Every May, the school would throw a carnival. Seamus offered to work the dunking booth. Sister Marion always went in one day because the students got a kick out of it and it raised a lot of money. Well, Seamus rigged the booth so that she would fall in every time a ball was thrown. On the thirtieth time Sister Marion fell in, Margaret and Maureen slipped a snapping turtle into the water." He pauses for dramatic effect, as he fights a grin. "Sister Marion lost a pinkie toe."

I bring my hand up to cover my mouth, my eyes widening. "Oh my God."

"That was the last straw and no Malloy has ever been allowed back." He shrugs. "In their defense, Seamus insists to this day that he didn't know it was a snapping turtle. There's debate as to whether or not he's telling the truth."

"These kids seem almost as bad as Adam," I say with a smile. "Yet you want to spend our last few days of freedom with them."

He shrugs his shoulders, his lips spreading into a grin. "They're family." He pauses and then adds. "They're not bad kids. As Aunt Ginny likes to say, 'They're spirited'."

I look warily at him. In my experience, that's just a mother's way of denying that her children are little monsters.

---

Patrick and I walk up the path to the one story ranch house. The house is painted an electric blue with neon yellow shutters. The yard consists of a small patch of crabgrass and a series of bushes in front of the house that are so overgrown they actually resemble a jungle more than bushes.

Patrick walks up to the door and rings the doorbell. I take a deep breath and realize my palms have begun to sweat. I've felt this enough to know the signs. I'm nervous. Why am I nervous? Do I fear they won't like me? Or, worse, that I won't like them?

Patrick slips his hand into mine and offers me a comforting smile. I let out a breath. He always has a way of making me feel better.

We can hear movement inside and voices getting closer, but no one's appeared at the door yet. Suddenly, we hear a shrill voice.

"The cat is not a toy! Don't do that! Don't you...I said...Don't you dare...Put the cat down! Now go answer the door!"

I look at Patrick, but he seems unfazed. I thought he said she was easy-going and laid-back? Of course, is that even possible with seven kids?

Suddenly, the door flies open. I look down and a little girl with strawberry blonde hair and freckles stares up at us.

"Carrot Top!" Patrick says, bending down and opening his arms.

My eyes widen, as a smile spreads across the girl's lips and she leaps into Patrick's arms.

"Patty!"

Patty? 

Are my eyes deceiving me or does Patrick actually look happy to see a kid? And does a kid actually look happy to see him?

He pulls back and stands up. He looks at me and puts his arm around my shoulders. "Eileen, this is my girlfriend, Robin."

Eileen smiles at me and sticks her hand out. I shake it, returning the smile.

"Nice to meet ya. Patty talks about you tons in all his e-mails and calls." She brings her hand up and moves it like she's playing shadow puppets, "He's all like blah, blah, blah, she's totally awesome, blah, blah, blah."

Patrick laughs and pats her head. He then takes my hand again and walks past her.

We come to stand in the living room. At least I think it's the living room. I notice something that resembles a couch. There's so much clothes and other various items on it that I can't be sure. Toys are strewn about the floor. The coffee table is covered in dishes and very, very old magazines. Again, Patrick seems unfazed. I think now I understand what he meant about her being easy-going and laid-back. He was talking about her housekeeping skills. Although if I had seven kids to keep up with, I'd probably end up in the loony bin, so I probably shouldn't judge.

"MOM! MOM! MOM!" Eileen cups her hands over her mouth and bellows in the direction of the kitchen, which is right off the living room.

I'm pretty sure she could whisper and her mother would hear her. 

"MOM! GUESS WHO'S HERE! NO, IT'S NOT OLD MRS. FLANDERS AGAIN! AND IF SHE DOES SHOW UP, I DIDN'T DO IT!" Eileen continues when she receives no response.

I'm wondering if her mother isn't responding because she's gone deaf after suffering through eight years of Eileen's screaming.

A woman suddenly steps out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She has light brown hair that's pulled into a haphazard ponytail. She's wearing a grey t-shirt and jeans. Her face is devoid of make-up, but her skin is smooth and she has a natural beauty that shines through, despite the wrinkles beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth. A smile immediately appears on her lips when she sees Patrick, making her green eyes sparkle.

She walks toward him, shaking her head. "Well, look who the cat dragged in."

Patrick grins, as his aunt reaches him and pulls him into a hug. "Hi, Aunt Gin," he says quietly, as he wraps his arms around her.

I smile as I watch them, the warmth present between them clearly evident. It seems that Aunt Gin must have served as the closest thing to a mother he had once he lost his own.

Patrick pulls back after a few moments and puts his arm around me. He then looks at my face, so lovingly I'm sure I'll blush. "This is Robin," he says softly.

Aunt Gin sighs and then shocks me by throwing her arms around my body and pulling me to her. "I've heard so much about you. I'm so glad we've finally met."

I find it interesting that Patrick's told them so much about me, but I haven't heard anything about her or her children until now. I try not to push Patrick into telling me things about his past and childhood. I know he'll tell me when he chooses, which is usually whenever the moment hits him because he's reminded of something. I think talking about his aunt must remind him of his mother, which is always painful for him. Still, having him bring me here to meet them is a huge step. It makes me feel like he truly trusts me and that our relationship just continues to grow.

Aunt Ginny pulls back and then cups her hand over her mouth. "KIDS! COME SAY HI TO YOUR COUSIN!"

So, I guess the yelling is genetic.

A moment later, the sound of a stampede fills the air and six children come running down the hallway. They line up (more or less), looking like a bunch of rejects from a casting call for "The Sound of Music". I half-expect them to start sing 'do, a deer, a female deer.'

Aunt Ginny points at each one, as she says their names. Seamus is nearly Patrick's height with hair that's been died black and pale skin, with a ready smile. Maureen has bright red hair and freckles all over her body. She's so skinny she looks like a popsicle stick. Her legs are two sticks that seem to go on forever. Margaret is actually taller than Maureen, but has more weight to her. She's plump and has bright green eyes and brown hair like her mother's. She pops her gum. Mollie is the spitting image of Margaret, except she is an inch shorter with glasses. Riley has curly strawberry blonde hair and looks like a miniature Pillsbury Doughboy. Liam, the youngest, has hair just like Riley's and a skinny little body like a chicken.

They are certainly an interesting bunch.

Aunt Ginny looks at Patrick, her tone playful. "So to what do we owe this pleasure? Why has the hotshot doc from New York graced us with his presence? Is it Christmas already?"

Patrick drops his head and blushes. "Can't I just want to spend time with my family?"

"No," she states matter-of-factly, but not hurtfully. "Come on, spill. Why are you here? And the bags in your hands indicate you're staying a while."

I suddenly feel very bad for not calling. "I'm sorry we didn't call ahead."

She waves a hand in dismissal. "This isn't the Hilton."

I glance around the messy room. She's not kidding.

"So?" she says, looking at Patrick, still waiting for an answer to her question. "Oh, are you getting married? She's pregnant!" she says, clapping her hands.

Patrick and I exchange a look, before he shakes his head. "No, nothing like that. I just thought it was time you guys met Robin." He pauses and looks at me. "And Robin met you."

"And?" she says, arching an eyebrow.

He licks at his lips. "And...Robin has this list of things she wants to do in her life and we've been doing them together. One of them is to ride the highest roller coaster in the country, which is at Great Adventure here in Jersey. I figured we could cross off that item, while spending a little time with you guys."

She eyes him suspiciously for a moment. I look at Patrick, as he moves his gaze to the floor. Hmm. I wonder what that's about.

She shakes her head and then puts her hands on her hips. "Sorry you won't meet my Brian. He's on a business trip. Well, let's get you settled."

"Please don't go to any trouble," I say. "We'll sleep anywhere."

I look at what I'm still guessing is the couch and grimace.

She gestures at Riley and Liam. "Don't be silly. You can have their beds. They don't mind. They can camp outside."

My eyes widen. It's March, but it's still pretty cold outside.

"It's supposed to be cold tonight," I say hesitantly. "Plus, we don't want you to have to get a tent out and-.."

She shakes her head. "No tent. They'll take a few folding chairs out and their windbreakers and be happy as clams."

I look at Patrick, but he simply smiles at me.

---

It turns out that Riley and Liam have bunk beds and share a room with Seamus. I look at the bunk beds, then Patrick, then back at the bunk beds, as I unpack my things.

"I get the top," I say quietly.

His head snaps up from his task of emptying his bag and his brow furrows. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Because I want the top," he states.

"Well, I called it."

He walks behind me, pressing his body into mine and wrapping his arms around me. He kisses the back of my neck. "You just love to be on top, don't you?" he says.

I giggle, as he begins to trail kisses up my neck and then across my jawline. His hands slide up my torso and move to touch my breasts, but I swat him away and turn around in his arms.

"Patrick! Your aunt is just down the hall!"

He grins. "So? She has seven kids, Robin. I'm thinking she's familiar with second base."

I shake my head, as I fight my smile. "We can't do any of that stuff while we're here."

His lips turn downward. "But we're staying here two nights. You mean nothing at all?"

I smile and pat his cheek. "Nothing at all."

He brings his lips to my throat and mutters, "Nothing like this?"

"Exactly," I breathe.

His lips move to my ear where he nips lightly. "And nothing like that?"

"Right," I say in a strangled moan.

He then brings his lips to mine and whispers against them, "And definitely nothing like-..." his voice trails off, as his mouth covers mine and his tongue dives in.

His hands entangle in my hair and my nails dig into the hair at the nape of his neck. I feel his hands move from hair and slide down my stomach. His fingers find their way under my shirt and I shiver as they begin to crawl up my stomach. Just as he's about to reach my breasts, I hear a voice.

"My mom says that's what got her into trouble seven times."

My eyes fly open, and Patrick and I pull apart abruptly. I whip my head in the direction of the door, as Patrick drops his and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. My eyes land on Riley.

I feel my face flood with red and my mouth drop open. I look to Patrick for help, but he's still finding the rug fascinating.

Fortunately, Riley doesn't make me suffer too long. He hooks a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "Mom said to tell you we ordered pizza."

I let out a breath and nod, stammering, "Oh, uh, okay. Yeah, uh, tell her we'll be there in a minute."

Riley disappears and I look at Patrick, who's now grinning at me. I swat his chest. "Look what you did! Now he's probably going to tell your aunt!"

He shrugs. "Let him tell her. She won't care. She'll probably be proud of me."

I let out a disgusted breath. "Where was this arrogance when Riley was standing there and you were looking at the rug like you'd never seen one before? You were all aw-shucks embarrassed then."

He simply smiles and takes my hand in his, leading the way to the dining room.

---

Aunt Ginny points her piece of pizza at me. "So, what do you see in my nephew? You seem like an intelligent, strong woman. I know he's handsome as a devil. I've always said the bastard hogged all the good-looks genes from the Fitzpatrick pool." 

I laugh and shake my head. Seamus looks at his mother, "Gee, thanks, Mom."

She brings her hand up to pat his head, but he ducks out of his read. "Oh, you know what I mean, honey. I mean, we're okay lookin' and you kids have the Malloy blood in you, but there's no denying Patrick's something special."

Patrick attempts a humble shake of his head, but fails. I sigh and say good-naturedly, "No wonder he's got such a big ego. Apparently, you've all been feeding it since the day he was born!"

Margaret shakes her head. "No way! Patrick developed that ego in utero!"

Aunt Ginny wags a finger at me. "Back to my original question. Besides his looks, what made you give my nephew the time of day? I mean, we all know he can be a complete jackass."

Patrick offers her a closed-mouth smile. "Thanks, Aunt Gin. I'm really feeling the love."

"Sorry, honey, but it's true."

I bring my arm and put it around Patrick's shoulders, as I look at his face. "It wasn't easy and it certainly wasn't overnight, but after a very, very, very, ve-..."

"I think they get the point," he mumbles.

I smile, continuing softly, "...very long time, I was able to see what an amazing man he really is. He is sweet and considerate and caring. He's been incredible doing this list with me. He just wants to make me happy. What more could I ask for?"

Patrick meets my eyes and offers me a smile.

I turn my head as I hear a gagging noise. Mollie has her finger down her throat. "Gag me."

Aunt Ginny shakes her head. "Well, you must be something to have tamed this one. What is it Grandma used to say?" she asks, looking at Maureen.

Maureen smiles and she makes her voice raspy. "Wild horses will be tamed before that grandson of mine."

I glance at his aunt and older cousins and grin, "So, what can you tell me about Patrick as a child?"

Aunt Gin laughs, "Oh plenty!" Patrick lets out a groan, as Aunt Gin leans forward. "When he was sixteen, he decided that he wanted a job for the summer. So my sister told him to go down to the local hamburger joint and get one. He thought he would have some cushy job working the cash register, but instead they stuck him in one of those big foam hamburger suits with red tights. They made him stand at the corner of the street holding a sign advertising their new hamburger."

I laugh, as Patrick's face reddens. 

Seamus chuckles and looks at his mother. "I remember that! We were down visiting that week. You made us drive by him every fifteen minutes and honk our horn."

"We were showing our support," she says, barely biting back a grin.

"And I was so grateful," Patrick mutters.

Seamus shakes his head. "Mom considered driving back and forth like that torturing Patrick as the highlight of our vacation. It only cost her gas money. She even made us yell out, 'Lookin' good, Beefcake!' or 'Nice legs! That hamburger looks lean!' Or, my personal favorite, 'You've got nice buns!'".

Patrick and I laugh, as Margaret leans forward, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "So, what about these adventures? Has Patty done anything to completely humiliate himself?"

Patrick drops his head. I smile at his cousin. "Where to start? Have you heard of Beach Jail?"

They all lean forward, eagerly awaiting my stories.

---

"You could have left out the throwing up on the astronaut, you know," he says, as he pulls his sheet back on the bed.

I look down at him from my place on the top bunk. "And leave out the best part? No way. Plus, they told me all about the time you were fourteen and did a cannonball into the pool and lost your bathing suit, while your crush Amy Johnson looked on."

Patrick shuts the light off and climbs into bed.

There's a smile in his voice as he speaks. "This is just like camp. Except there's a hot girl above me instead of a fat twelve year old boy hiding candy under his mattress."

I laugh into my pillow. "Good night, Patrick.

"Good night, Robin," he says softly.

A moment later, Seamus slips silently into the room and crawls into bed. It's a little uncomfortable sharing a room with Patrick and his eighteen year old cousin, but what can you do?

An hour passes and I lay staring up at the ceiling, unable to go to sleep. The reason for this is three-fold: # 1: This bed is too small. # 2: Seamus sounds like a foghorn in his sleep. And, the main reason, #3: I can't fall asleep without Patrick next to me anymore.

I suddenly hear, "Psst," break through the silence.

I move to the side and hang my head over, looking down. Patrick smiles. "You sleeping?"

"Does it look like I'm sleeping?"

He sighs, whispering. "I can't sleep without you in my arms."

A slow smile spreads across my lips, but I shake my head. "You're just trying to get me to invite you up here so you can get lucky."

"I swear I won't try anything. I just want to hold you," he says, his tone sincere, but his eyes twinkling in the darkness.

I sigh and glance at Seamus' sleeping figure. "Okay, come up."

Patrick practically jumps out of the bed and scrambles up the ladder in record time. He grins, slowly crawling towards me and then hovering over my body.

"This is much better."

He leans down to kiss me, but I clamp my hand over his mouth. "You promised."

I feel him sigh against my palm. I then remove my hand. "Goodnight kiss?" he asks hopefully.

I smile and kiss his cheek. He groans and makes a big production of falling over and then lying beside me. He pulls me to him, wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing the back of my neck. "That doesn't count," he mutters against my skin.

I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of his arm around me. He presses his body into mine and pulls me even closer, as his hand finds mine and he links our fingers.

I feel the breath catch in my chest. Oh, he better stop right now.

He nuzzles my neck and I feel his warm breath against my skin. I can't take it anymore.

I turn and face him. His eyes widen in pleasant surprise. I give him a quick kiss on the lips. "Okay? Now move to the other side of the bed. Please. Seriously, you need to move away."

He grins, but instead of moving away, he rolls on top of me, bracing himself with his arms on either side of my body.

"What are you doing?"

"Did I ever tell you that 'do it on the top of a bunk bed' is on my list?"

I laugh, "Why am I not surprised?"

He brings his lips to my neck and my eyes roll into the back of my head. I'm quickly becoming disoriented and forgetting our nothing physical rule while we're here, when I hear Seamus shift in his sleep. My eyes fly open and I pull Patrick's head up.

"We can't! Seamus! Remember!" I say in a harsh whisper.

"He's a very heavy sleeper," he replies, before capturing my mouth with his, as his hand slides between my legs.

A little moan escapes my lips. This is wrong. This is so wrong. But, damn, it feels so right!

I force myself to shake my head and pull back, placing my hand on his chest and gently pushing him away. He sighs and licks at his lips slowly.

"We can't. You know we can't," I say firmly.

He lets out a breath. "Next time, we're staying in a hotel." He pauses and smiles. "Then I can have my way with you."

He then plops down beside me, landing with a loud thud. All of the sudden, I hear a creak. Then a crack. Patrick and I exchange concerned looks. Then a louder creak and a louder crack. The top bunk where we lay begins to sway back and forth.

Oh, no. Oh, God, no.

But it's too late for prayers. The bunk breaks away from the frame and comes crashing down onto the bottom bunk. The bottom bunk then falls to the floor. Seamus bolts up out of bed, his eyes widening at me and Patrick. I cover my face with my hands, as Patrick buries his in my neck.

We hear a familiar sounding stampede. The door flies open a moment later and the light comes on. I slowly spread my fingers and peek through them. Every Malloy, even Riley and Liam, who were sleeping in the backyard, are crowding the doorway. They erupt into a fit of laughter at the sight of us.

"What exactly were you two doing in that bed?" Maureen asks, her arms crossed over her chest and a huge smile spread across her lips.

Aunt Ginny laughs and shakes her head, along with the rest of them. 

Patrick groans into my neck. My eyes move to Riley, who's not laughing, but has an amused and, dare I say, proud smile on his lips. 

"Patrick," I whisper in his ear. "Look at Riley."

Patrick slowly lifts his face and looks at Riley. He shakes his head and I can tell he recognizes that look.

He jumps out of bed and comes to stand in front of Riley, his hands on his hips as he looks down at him. "What did you do?"

Riley shrugs his shoulders innocently. "Me? I didn't do anything. I was outside, trying to survive the 40 degree weather."

"You did something. I know that look. I invented that look."

Riley smiles and I can tell he used the little show he witnessed earlier to help him get back at us for taking his bed.

Aunt Ginny steps forward. She glares down at him. "Tell us what you did or you'll be sleeping with the grasshoppers until you go away to college."

Riley blows out a breath. "Fine. Liam and I loosened all of the screws, nuts and bolts on the top bunk. Just a little."

My eyes widen and Patrick shakes his head. "Riley, we could have gotten hurt. That would have fallen on top of me."

He shakes his head and grins. "If you were in your bed." He pauses and then adds, "Robin's small and light. It would have held her. You're the one who made it fall."

Patrick simply shakes his head. After seeing Patrick and I earlier, Riley was banking on Patrick joining me. I've got to hand it to the kid.

---

Patrick and I had to sleep on the floor since the bunk beds were no longer in working condition. I try to stretch the kinks out of my body, as I turn to face Patrick. He smiles at me. "Did you get a good night's sleep?"

"Yeah, just great," I say flatly. "It was all your fault, you know. You just couldn't stay in your own bed."

"You invited me up."

"After you begged."

"I did not beg."

I shrug and stand up. "I'm going to go take a shower."

"I may join you."

I look over my shoulder and say with a smile, "Don't even think about it."

I walk into the bathroom and close the door behind me. I quickly strip out of my clothes and then turn the water on. I adjust the temperature and then slip into the tub, pulling the curtain closed. I lather up a wash cloth and a fresh bar of soap that Aunt Ginny thoughtfully left out for me. I close my eyes, enjoying the hot water running over my sore body and tense muscles. It's just what I need after spending the night on the hard floor.

I'm nearly done washing my body when I hear the door creak open and I realize I forgot to lock it. I smile. Patrick. The man can just not take no for an answer. 

"Patrick, you can't come in here," I say half-heartedly, really hoping he'll join me. I'm starting to go through withdrawal. I sigh. "Okay, but at least lock the door."

I hear the door click. I close my eyes again and I hear the top of the curtain move ever so slightly. I feel something soft brush against my neck and I think he must be teasing me with his fingertips before he enters the shower completely.

I spin around to kiss his fingertips, fully planning on then pulling him into the shower with me. But my lips land on something furry instead. My eyes fly open and I find myself face-to-face with a big, hairy tarantula and a tiny hand that's holding it.

I scream. I scream like I'm recreating the shower scene in 'Psycho'. I hear a decidedly girly giggle and then the hand drops the tarantula. The tarantula lands on my thigh and I begin to dance around. I grab at the shower curtain, tearing it from the rod. I use it to simultaneously try to squash the tarantula and cover myself.

After a moment, I realize that Eileen is rolling on the floor, completely dissolved into a fit of laughter.

I suddenly hear pounding on the door and the knob turning back and forth. It's Patrick. "Robin! Robin! Are you okay!"

He sounds as if he's about to attempt to break down the door (most likely with disastrous results), so I manage to jump out of the tub, pulling the curtain more completely around me. I glance around nervously for the tarantula and find it perched on top of the soap dish.

I unlock the door and throw it open. Patrick's eyes roam wildly over me, his brow furrowing at the sight of me wrapped in a shower curtain. But instead of laughing or asking me what happened, he pulls me into his arms. "Thank God you're okay. I didn't know what to think."

I smile, as he rubs my bare back. "I'm fine."

He then pulls back, his eyes finally finding Eileen, who's still rolling on the floor. He looks at me. "What did she do?"

I simply point at the soapdish.

He shakes his head and look at her sternly. "Come on, Carrot Top, you're coming with me."

---

I sit in the living room, flipping dejectedly through a Better Homes and Garden's Magazine from 1988. I'm waiting for Patrick so we can go to the park. Aunt Ginny and the kids were supposed to come with us, but since the kids got into trouble I'm not so sure that's going to happen.

Patrick sits down next to me and puts his arm around my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

I shrug, saying softly, "I don't know. I guess I just wanted them to like me."

"They do like you."

I scoff at that and lower my gaze. "They've got a funny way of showing it."

Patrick smiles and lifts his finger to my chin so I'll meet his eyes. "You don't understand. They only prank the people they like. They loved Sister Marion. That tarantula was Eileen's way of saying, 'Welcome to the family'."

I laugh and shake my head. "You've got to be kidding."

Patrick shakes his head and then nods over his shoulder. I see all seven Malloy children line up behind him. They are holding up a crudely made painted banner that says, 'Welcome to the family, Robin.'"

I smile, as tears begin to sting my eyes. Patrick nods at them and they flip the banner over. They give me their best puppy dog eyes, as I read it aloud, "Now can we please go to Great Adventure with you?"

I laugh and nod my head. Patrick pulls me to him, as he kisses my forehead.

---

So the plan was for Aunt Gin, the kids, Patrick and I to go to Great Adventure. They pile into the van and Patrick and I get into our rental. We drive the short distance to the park, find spots in the lot and then all pile out. I look around at the Malloys, my brow furrowing.

"Where's your mother?"

Seamus shakes his head. "Oh, she didn't come."

Patrick's eyes narrow. "We saw her get into the car."

Margaret nods, "Yeah, but after you guys rounded the corner, she had us drop her off at the curb. She said to give you this."

Margaret hands Patrick a note. He opens it and reads it aloud, "Thanks for the day off. I appreciate it. P.S. Don't worry, the kids have their allowances with them."

I shake my head, as Patrick blows out a breath of air. "We've been conned."

I smile. She's good.

Patrick look at them warily, as they stare at him with grins upon their lips. "Well, I guess it's just us then." He looks at me and smiles nervously. "This could get ugly."

I straighten my shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. "Okay, let's get a few things straight. Rule #1-..."

They groan and Patrick whispers to me, "I know that's your comfort zone, but that may not be the best approach with them."

I turn to him, as they stare at us in amusement. "They're children. Children need structure. In fact, they crave structure."

"No, we don't," Mollie says, her pigtails shaking back and forth. "Why do adult always say that?"

I go on, ignoring Patrick and Mollie. "Rule # 1: Stay together. If we get separated-..."

My voice trails off, as they turn their backs on us and run towards the entrance.

Patrick puts his arm around my shoulder. "Yeah, definitely the right approach."

---

Patrick and I manage to round-up all seven Malloy kids once we enter the park. Seamus, Margaret and Maureen stare at us sullenly.

Maureen finally says, "Can us three go off on our own and meet up with you guys when we're ready to leave?"

Patrick shakes his head firmly. "Absolutely not. Robin was right, we need to stay together. I know labeling it a...," he pauses, making airquotes with his fingers, "...'rule' turned you off a bit-..."

I smack his chest. He goes on, "...but she was right nonetheless."

Margaret snorts. "Do you have any idea how hard it is keeping seven kids together in a crowded amusement park? Ask mom about the Disney World incident of '02. Riley nearly ended up on a milk carton."

Patrick's mouth drops open. He looks at me and whispers, "Aunt Gin's gonna be pissed if I lose one of them."

Seamus nods. "That's right. That's why you should let those of us old enough to take care of ourselves go off on our own. And you worry about the younger ones. Trust me, you'll have your hands plenty full."

Patrick and I exchange a look. They may be right. I have little confidence in our abilities to control all seven of them. Hell, I have little confidence in our abilities to control four of them.

"Your call," I say, looking up at him.

Patrick lets out a defeated breath. "O-..."

He barely gets out a sound before Maureen, Margaret, and Seamus take off.

He yells after them. "Stay together! Meet us back at the gate at seven!"

I look down at Mollie, who has her arms crossed over her chest and an amused smile on her lips.

"What?" I ask.

"You just sent those three off on their own in an amusement park. Do you have any idea the kind of trouble they can get into?"

Patrick waves her off. "They'll be fine."

She tilts her head. "Patty, those are the three that got the Malloys banned from St. Mary's, in case you've forgotten. They taught the rest of us everything we know."

Patrick's face pales, as he stares off in the direction they headed. I see him swallow hard.

---

"I'm hungry!" Riley says for the thousandth time.

I my eyes and rub at my temples.

"You had a hot dog, French fries, and cotton candy less than an hour ago," Patrick says.

"The cotton candy doesn't count. It's just air and sugar. Not filling."

Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at the bridge of his nose. We've been here three hours and so far they've eaten an ungodly amount of junk food, used the bathroom three times, and tried to escape us five times. And their allowances amounted to a grand total of $7.35, so we had to pay for their tickets and all of their food so far.

We haven't even gone on one ride yet. We attempted a ride, but, after waiting in line for 45 minutes, Liam decided he had to use the bathroom (again) right before we were about to board.

Riley and Liam suddenly decide they want to go to the Wild Safari Park, which requires us to go back to the car since we have to drive through it to see the animals. Patrick argues with them for a bit about this, before they threaten to yell 'Stranger Danger' if he doesn't give in.

So, we head back to the rental car and pile in. We would have taken the van but Seamus has the keys. We make our way to the entrance. Once there, they tell us we are to keep our windows closed and our hands in the vehicle at all times. We are not to feed the animals.

Patrick turns and looks at the kids. "Did you hear that? Windows stay closed, which means hands can't go out and food can't be thrown."

I can tell Patrick is flashing back to Adam, as he grips the steering wheel tightly. Eileen, Mollie and Riley who sit in the back nod. Patrick looks at Liam who's sitting between us in our tiny rental car. "Got it?"

He smiles and give him a thumbs up. "Got it."

We begin our drive, our eyes widening at the elephants and giraffes. I look back at the children, smiling at the looks of pure awe on their faces. I nod with my head to Patrick to take a look. He glances back, a smile spreading across his lips. It's strange the feeling that comes over me right then. This overwhelming warm feeling. It's like we're a family. And as I look at Patrick smiling at the kids, I can see our future in his eyes. I can see our children, our family.

We continue along, our mouths dropping open at the beautiful African lion. Patrick and I are so captivated by the sight, that we don't realize that Liam is standing up between us until it's too late. I raise my eyes and realize he pushed the sunroof button and opened the sunroof all the way. He's now sticking his head up out of it, his brother and sisters holding his legs to support him.

I hit Patrick's arm. "Look!"

His eyes nearly fall out of his head. "Liam! I said no opening windows and you're not supposed to put your hands outside the vehicle!"

Riley grins. "A sunroof isn't a window and his hands are still inside the vehicle."

I throw him a glare. "Semantics!"

He shrugs. "I don't know what that means."

Patrick and I begin tugging on Liam, but he brings his arms up and braces himself on the roof. It's then that I notice Mollie leaning forward, a bologna sandwich in her hands.

"Here! Give him this!" she says, as she reaches up and hands it to Liam before Patrick and I can stop her.

"No!" I scream.

But it's too late. Liam throws the sandwich, but it makes it no further than the hood of our car. Patrick's mouth drops open, as the lion's head whips in the direction of the sound. His nose twitches and his mouth opens wide, revealing very sharp teeth, as he begins walk toward us. Patrick's so frozen with fear that he hits the brake.

"The gas! The gas!" I say.

The lion runs the rest of the way to our car, putting his paws on the hood and grabbing the sandwich.

It's then that the Safari Wardens appear. They quickly move the lion off our car, their eyes moving to Liam who still has his head sticking out of the sunroof.

Patrick and I simply drop our heads. The warm feeling has faded away.

---

Eileen shrugs, as we re-enter the park. "It's too bad we're now banned from Wild Safari park. It was so cool."

Patrick and I exchange weary looks. We walk on and I look at Patrick, as Kingda Ka comes into view. "Is there any hope of doing number 22 today?"

He smiles and nods. "We'll do it right now."

We walk to the ride and groan at the long line. Eileen points at the height chart. "Um, none of us are tall enough to ride this except Mollie and she's afraid of heights."

"Am not!"

"Are so!"

"Am not!"

"Are so!" Eileen says with a stomp of her foot. She shakes her head. "It's not just the highest coaster in the U.S., it's the highest in the world. And also the fastest."

Mollie sets her jaw and says firmly, "I'm going on it."

Eileen shrugs in defeat and stares at us. "And what are you going to do with the rest of us? Tie us to a lamp post?"

Patrick looks at me and says softly, "That's frowned upon, right?" I raise my brow at him. His lips turn downward, as he looks at his three youngest cousins. "I guess it's too much to expect you to just wait patiently on a bench for us."

Eileen grins. "We're just defenseless children. Someone could kidnap us."

Patrick whispers in my ear, "We're not that lucky."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Eileen puts her hands on her hips. "Well, what are you going to do?"

I groan and rub at my face. This parent stuff is hard.

Just then, Patrick catches sight of Maureen, Margaret and Seamus a few yards away. He yells and waves them over.

They walk over, eyeing him suspiciously.

"What?" Seamus snaps.

"Can you watch your brothers and sister while we go on Kindga Ka?"

Margaret sighs. "Fine. But don't take too long."

"Thank you. Just meet us back here in 45 minutes. And don't get into any trouble."

I throw him a look, as they run off. "Nice going. You might as well have just said, 'I challenge you do get into trouble. On your mark, get set, go!'"

He looks at their retreating figures in concern.

---

Mollie, Patrick and I inch our way forward in the line. I take the park pamphlet out and begin reading aloud about Kingda Ka.

"A hydraulic launch rockets riders horizontally from 0 to 128 mph in 3.5 seconds, then vertically 90 degrees into a quarter turn. Riders crest the coaster's tower an exhilarating 458 feet from the ground, then plunge vertically into a 270-degree three-quarter spiral. The train swoops down a valley and climbs a 129-foot 'camel hump' hill, leaving riders feeling weightless before making a left turn and gliding back into the station."

I look at Mollie, who seems to be blanching more with every step, as she looks up at the monstrous ride. 

"The-..." I continue, before Patrick snatches the pamphlet from my grip.

He grits his teeth, as he looks at Mollie. "Ignorance is bliss."

I shrug and look up at the ride. Heights have never bothered me. But, I have to admit, it is intimidating. The tower makes my heart drop into my stomach just looking at it.

"Are you okay?" I ask, looking at Mollie.

She swallows hard. "Yeah, sure, of course."

"You don't have to do this. No one will think less of you."

"I might," Patrick says, flashing her a grin.

I punch him in the arm. "You're not helping."

"Robin, leave her alone. She said she wants to go. She'll be fine."

Famous last words.

We finally make our way to the front of the line. We climb in and pull our harnesses over our heads, securing them. Mollie sits next to me and Patrick sits in front of us next to a teenage boy. I steady my breathing and watch as Patrick takes a deep breath. Mollie grips the harness so hard her knuckles turn white.

Soon, the ride takes off. It goes so fast so quickly, I can barely think. All three of us let out blood-curdling screams, as we move at lightning speed. I look at the tower, which is too steep for words and reaches 458 feet at the highest point. I feel my stomach in my throat as climb it. I look up at Patrick. He's pale, but seems to be doing fine. I look over at Mollie. She does not seem to be doing fine.

"Robin," she says weakly, just as we reach the top and then coming flying back down.

Her cheeks balloon out and I get a space camp flashback. She turns to me, just as she can't hold it anymore.

Vomit comes flying at me at warp speed. It's not as bad as it would normally be because we're going so fast that some of it actually hits the people behind us. I still end up with it on my face, in my hair, and on my shirt. My lips turn down in disgust, as I glance at Patrick in front of us. Patrick's clean as a whistle.

The ride comes to a stop and she looks at me in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, sweetie."

Patrick turns around and looks at me. He can't help his grin. "Oh, now that's just too bad."

I throw him a glare. He then smiles comfortingly at Mollie, "Don't worry, Moll, it's not as bad as throwing up on an astronaut."

I manage a grin at his self-deprecating way of trying to comfort her. 

We make our way off the ride and through the exit gate. We're just about to go to the bathroom to clean-up, when we hear over the loudspeaker, "Patrick Drake, please come to Guest Relations. Patrick Drake, please come to Guest Relations.

He covers his face with his hands. "You've got to be kidding me."

Mollie and I quickly clean up and then all three of us walk to Guest Relations. We're met by security.

"Are you Patrick Drake?" a man about forty with blonde hair asks us.

"Yes. Is something wrong? Did something happen to my cousins?" Patrick asks, concerned.

He lets out a breath of air. "Just come with me, please, sir."

We follow the security guard down a path and into a small building. He takes us down a narrow hallway that leads into a small room with a 5x5 cell. Our eyes widen, as we see Seamus, Maureen, Margaret, Eileen, Riley and Liam all sitting on a bench behind the bars.

This must be Amusement Park Jail. Who knew? Patrick groans and walks over to the bars. They jump up quickly and run to him, each one speaking a mile a minute.

He finally holds up a hand, saying calmly, "One at a time."

Seamus sighs. "We were on the water rapids ride when Maureen decided it would be fun to unstrap ourselves, jump out and hide on that little ledge near the last waterfall."

I look at Maureen with wide eyes. "Why on earth would that be fun?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. We wanted to jump out and scare the other riders."

I let out a groan as Patrick shakes his head. 

"And what happened after that?" he asks.

Margaret continues, "Well, when the ride operators found our float empty, they became worried that something had happened to us. They stopped the ride and began to conduct a search of the water."

Patrick runs a hand down his face and lets out a slow breath.

Seamus finishes. "They finally found us and hauled us back here. Then they asked us who our guardian was and...that would be you."

"Hey, you're eighteen, buddy. You're legal. You should have been more responsible," Patrick points out through clenched teeth.

The guard comes up to Patrick. "You're free to take them. Just please make sure to keep better control of them next time."

Their eyes light up and they gesture to the door. "Open up," Riley says.

But Patrick shakes his head. "No, you need to learn a lesson. You didn't listen and now you're going to pay the price. Enjoy Amusement Park Jail. We'll see you in five hours." 

I smile. It seems that maybe Patrick has learned something from his mistakes. Although five hours may be a bit much.

He turns to me and Mollie, "Come on, let's go."

Mollie smiles and sticks her tongue out at her siblings, as they let out groans of disbelief.

She grins up at us and puts her arms around our waists as we walk out. "It's nicer just the three of us anyway, don't you think?"

I offer her a closed-mouth smile. Sure, except for the vomiting part.

---

We bail six of the seven Malloys out of the Amusement Park Jail right before we are ready to leave. It is seven-thirty by the time Patrick and I drag our weary bodies into his aunt's house. We collapse onto the couch, as the kids head to their rooms. Aunt Ginny comes down the hallway a moment later, looking ten years younger.

"Oh, wait a great day! I got a manicure, saw a movie, had some lunch, did some shopping. It was just perfect."

Patrick and I throw her glares.

She simply smiles, "So how was your day? I hope the kids weren't any trouble."

Patrick's jaw tightens, but he replies quietly. "Oh, no trouble at all."

"Oh, that's good to hear!" she says, then disappears back down the hall.

I turn to him, my mouth slack. "Why didn't you tell her what happened? You shouldn't protect them, Patrick."

He shakes his head. "I'm not protecting them."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugs. "Because she deserved a day, Robin. A day just to herself. And telling her that would have ruined it."

I smile and then kiss his temple. "Sometimes you're sweeter than you know."

---

The next morning, I'm walking by Aunt Ginny's bedroom when I hear her call me. "Robin, come here a minute. I want to show you something."

I walk into her bedroom and sit down on the bed next to her. She has an album out and is looking at old family pictures.

"Having Patrick here made me a little nostalgic," she says wistfully, as she runs her hand over the faded pictures. She points to one of a little girl.

"That's Mattie. She was only five right there."

I look at the picture, the first I've seen of Patrick's mother. She has curly hair that looks to be brown and a dimpled smile. I guess Patrick got his dimple from his mother.

When Patrick moved in, I asked him if he had any pictures of his mother to put out. He said he didn't have any pictures of his mother. I waited for him to tell me why, but he didn't. Three days later, as we lay in bed after making love, he stared up at the ceiling, his fingertips trailing up and down my back and quietly told me the story.

He said that a month after his father died, he came home to find his father sitting in front of a fire, a bottle of scotch in one hand and an empty photo album in the other. He had burned every photo of his mother, even the framed ones. Patrick said he would never forgive him for that, no matter what happened between them in the future.

Aunt Ginny flips ahead, pointing at a picture of a young Noah and Mattie on their wedding day. Mattie is beautiful, with long flowing brown hair and a smile that lights up her face. She's staring at Noah. I can't believe how much Patrick resembles his father. Noah must have been about the age Patrick is now.

Aunt Ginny smiles. "I introduced them, you know," she says. I shake my head and she goes on. "I was seventeen and volunteering at a hospital to read to the patients. He was new and just so damn good-looking! I immediately had a crush on him. Mattie was ten years older than me and she would come to pick me up. One day, she came to pick me up and Noah saw her. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. His gaze literally followed her all the way across the room as she walked to meet me. And he couldn't take his eyes off her the entire time we were talking. The next day, he asked me who she was and I told him she was my older sister. Despite my crush on him, I did what any good sister would do. I arranged for them to 'bump' into each other the next time she came to pick me up. And the rest is history."

Her voice trails off at the end and I see her wipe at her face. She smiles and looks at me. "Patrick looks at you the way Noah looked at Mattie. That's why I know you're the one for him." She pauses and then adds softly, "He knows it, too, and he wanted us to know it. That's why he really brought you here. I could see it in his eyes when he was telling us why you two came to see us."

I smile. That explains the look she gave him and Patrick's reaction. She could see right through him and he knew it.

Tears begin to sting my eyes, as Aunt Ginny brings her hand to my cheek. "You're so good for him, Robin. After his mother died and his father spun out of control, I never thought he'd get to this place. He was so scared to open his heart. But you changed all of that." She pauses and wipes at a tear that slips down my cheek. "He called me the day after you moved in together. He wanted to give me his new phone number. I remember thinking he never sounded happier and all he was doing was reading off a bunch of digits to me."

Aunt Ginny drops her hand back to the album and flips ahead a few more pages. She stops and I hear her breath catch in her chest. I look down at the picture. It's Mattie and she has a bulging belly.

"It's Mattie, eight months pregnant with Patrick."

I bring my hand to the page and run it across the part of the picture with her belly.

"I remember how scared Noah was of being a father. He didn't think he wanted kids before they got married. But that notion just didn't fly with the Fitzpatricks. The more time he spent with us and saw how close we were as a family, how we supported each other, the more he warmed to the idea. And when Patrick was born he became his whole world. He wanted to be everything to that child. He never wanted to fail or disappoint him." She sighs, "I hope Noah realizes now that being a parent isn't about not failing or never disappointing your children. It's about doing the best you can and making sure they know you'll be there for them no matter what. It's not about being perfect or making all of the right decisions all the time." She then looks at me. "I know he's scared, too. Let him know he's not alone. Let him know that you'll be there with him for the ride."

Aunt Ginny then sticks her fingers beneath the plastic covering the picture and pulls it out. "Here. I want Patrick to have this."

My eyes widen. "What? But it must be your only copy."

"Mattie would have wanted him to have it." She then nods her head, "I know what Noah did to the pictures, but Patrick never told me. Noah did. He doesn't know I know. I'd give Patrick every picture I have of her if I thought he'd take them. But he wouldn't because that would mean admitting what happened to the ones he had. That's just the way he is. But a son deserves to have a picture of his mother. Please, take it. Tell him you liked the picture, so I gave it to you."

I'm staring down at the picture, when I hear Patrick's voice. "Aunt Gin, you need to release my girlfriend from captivity now. It's time for us to go."

My head snaps up and I meet his eyes. He smiles at me. "She hasn't been filling your head with more horrible stories of me as child has she?"

I smile and exchange a look with Aunt Ginny, before saying. "Maybe just a few."

I then slip the picture in my purse, give her a hug and whisper, "Thank you."

I stand up and walk to the door, slipping my hand into Patrick's.

---

It takes a while to say goodbye. There are a lot of hugs.

"You come back anytime," Aunt Ginny says.

"Stay in a hotel next time," Riley offers helpfully.

Patrick and I laugh and nod, as we walk out the door and head to the car. We load our bags and then get in. We drive in silence for a while until I break it, looking over at Patrick.

"You have a great family."

He smiles and nods. "Yeah, I do."

"Challenging, but great."

"And now you know why I like challenges." His expression softens, "Why I liked you right away."

I smile, thinking about how different Patrick was around his cousins than he usually is around children. He was so much more at ease. I guess that's because they're family.

"You know, you did pretty well yesterday handling the kids," I say looking at him.

He raises an eyebrow. "They ended up in Amusement Park Jail."

"So?"

"Robin, I failed," he says quietly.

I shake my head. "No, you didn't. For one thing, you can't control what kids do. They make their own choices. But, even so, being a parent isn't about not making mistakes or never failing. You will fail. You will make a mistake. It's about how you handle yourself after you fail, after you make a mistake."

"And drowning yourself in alcohol is never the recommended course of action."

I bring my hand up and touch his cheek. "You were a father yesterday, whether you realize it or not. The kids made a mistake and you didn't let them off the hook. You taught them a lesson. I was proud of you." He offers me a smile and covers my hand with his. His eyes tell me what his words can't just yet. He truly has changed his mind about being a father.

I grin and then add, "Although making them spend five hours in Amusement Park Jail may have been going a bit overboard."

He laughs. "Couldn't have been worse than three hours in Beach Jail. At least they didn't have to sit next to a three hundred pound tattooed man who smelled like fish and corndogs."

---

I smile, as we arrive home. We drop onto the couch, sighing in exhaustion. I put my head on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around me.

It's then that I remember. I grab my purse and open it up, pulling the picture out.

His eyes land on it, his mouth dropping open slightly. He speaks softly, but his gaze never leaves the picture.

"Where did you get this?" he asks softly.

"You're Aunt Gin. I liked it, so she gave it to me."

Patrick's thumb runs across the picture, as tears appear in his eyes. He finally breaks his gaze and looks up at me.

"Thank you," he whispers.

I smile, as I bring my lips to his.

---  
**Up Next: To Do # 8 - Lose More Money Than You Can Afford at Roulette in Vegas. **  
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph .


	9. To Do 8: Lose Money at Roulette in Vegas

**Note**: This part is for **mature** readers only. It's a little smutty, nothing too graphic though. Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph

**Title**: The List  
**Author**: Steph  
**Rating**: Soft R  
**Pairing**: Robin/Patrick  
**Category**: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV**: Robin  
**Disclaimer**: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers**: Nope.  
Summary: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**---The List: To Do # 8 - Lose More Money Than You Can Afford at Roulette in Vegas ---**

"Three days in Vegas," Liz says to me with a shake of her head, as she hands me a patient chart. "You are so lucky. Sometimes I wish I went to medical school just so I could get a free trip to great places."

I laugh. "It's not all it's cracked up to be. I mean, during these medical conferences we spend most of the time attending lectures and panel discussions."

Liz raises an eyebrow. "But you're going with Patrick. I have a feeling he'll figure out a way to make the most of the free time you have."

I nod, smiling. "If it were up to Patrick, we would never leave our hotel room. As it is, it's going to be a constant battle to make sure we actually make it to all of the lectures. He won't make it easy."

I suddenly feel his breath tickle my ear, as his body slides up against mine. "My ears are burning."

I turn and smile at him, as Liz waggles her eyebrows at me and then exits the Nurses' Station.

"I was just telling Liz how you're going to make it nearly impossible to keep our schedules at the conference."

Patrick brings a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. "I'm a professional, Dr. Scorpio. And attending medical conferences is a part of my ongoing commitment to my professional development. I am insulted that you would think I would take my commitments so lightly."

I roll my eyes. "That was a very convincing performance. I'll be sure to remember it when it comes time to nominate 'Best Full of Crap' performance of the year. You're a shoo-in to win."

He grins and does a little bow. "I try." He then wiggles his eyebrows. "Vegas, baby."

I point my pen at him, trying my best to be serious. "I'm warning you right now. This is a business trip. We are going down there to work. We are not mixing business with pleasure."

He raises his brow. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Not mixing business with pleasure? Since when? That's all we ever do. Have you forgotten how many places we've had sex in this hospital?" he says, his voice raising an octave.

I look around and grit my teeth. "Keep your voice down!"

He licks at his lips and leans in toward me. "And how exactly do you expect to keep business and pleasure from intermingling when we'll be sharing a room?"

My brow furrows. That's a good question. Hmm. And then it hits me.

My eyes brighten and I offer him a smile. "Simple. We're not sharing a room."

His jaw nearly hits the floor. He finally recovers enough to say, "Wh...what?"

"There seems to be something wrong with your hearing today, Dr. Drake. You should really get that checked out."

"Robin, we live together. Separate rooms is ridiculous. And...and…an unnecessary expense for the hospital."

"Keep grasping at those straws."

"It'll never work. We couldn't even stand not being in the same bed, never mind the same room, at my aunt's."

"Actually, I believe that was you who couldn't stand it. You were the one who begged to come up to my bunk."

"You felt the same way and you know it." His voice softens and he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me to him. "You can't sleep without my arms around you, without my body lying next to yours. Not anymore."

"Not true," I say weakly.

"Completely true." He grins, "Once you go Drake, you don't go back."

I snort, as he draws out the 'a' in the word 'back'. "You know that didn't rhyme, right?"

He shrugs. "I always sucked at rhyming in kindergarten." He pauses and then licks at his lips, "Enough about my rhyming skills or lackthereof. I thought the reason we started living together in the first place is so that we would know we would never have to spend a night apart again. Robin, we've been a real couple for ten months now and we haven't spent a night apart in all of that time. I'm not about to start now."

I feel myself weakening. The truth is, the last thing I want to do is spend one moment away from him, but I know what will happen. We'll never be able to get out of bed. He'll kiss me and I'll lose all sense of control. It's hard enough getting up for work in the morning. But at least then we know there will be consequences if we don't show up or are late for our shifts. No one's going to notice if we don't show up at some lectures for a medical conference in Vegas. The temptation to stay wrapped up in each other will be too hard to resist.

I shake my head firmly. "No, you know what will happen. There will be no incentive to leave the comfort of each other's arms to attend a lecture. And you'll use every trick in your extensive book to make sure my efforts to keep us on schedule are thwarted."

"What if I promise I'll be good?"

"I won't believe you."

"Why not?"

"Because you lie," I say with a grin. He shrugs, unable to argue with that. I bring my hand up to his cheek. "Look, the truth is, I would like nothing more than to spend a few days in Vegas with you, lying in bed or doing as many fun things as the city has to offer. But we have responsibilities."

"You're not telling me we can't do anything fun, right? I mean, catching a few shows and gambling a bit is still allowed, right? As long, as we keep our commitments, that is?"

I nod. "Of course. I have to do number 12 on my list, after all."

His face twists. "Yeah, about that. I'm not sure if you noticed your unfortunate wording of that item, but it says 'lose more money than you can afford to at Roulette', emphasis on the word lose. Now, you said you were young and stupid when you made that list, so I'm thinking you didn't really re-read or edit or revise or anything. So this was probably just a careless mistake. I mean, why would you want to try to lose money? That's just stupid."

I shake my head. "The point is to throw caution to the wind. To play without caring about the money you lose."

"But what if we win? What, we're just supposed to keep playing until we lose?"

I nod. "Yeah, I guess."

"I have a better idea. How about you do that and I'll keep my winnings. Don't worry, I'll buy you something nice."

"You promised," I say in a sing-song manner.

He grins widely, placing his hands on his hips. "Yeah, but we've already established that I'm a liar."

"You know, I could always talk to Alan and tell him that I can go on the trip by myself and then fill you in on the information you missed when I get back."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

He blows out a breath of air and then offers me a pointed look. "Let me get this straight. Our trip to Vegas will consist of nothing physical at all, not sleeping in the same bed or room, very little fun or entertainment and I will be expected to try to lose money."

"That about sums it up."

He shakes his head, "Congratulations, Robin. You've turned a few days in Sin City into a Senior Citizen's bus trip. Jesus, I can have a better time here in Port Charles." He pauses and then adds, "Maybe you should talk to Alan."

I shake my head. "But Vegas will have one thing Port Charles won't."

"And what's that?"

I lean close to him and whisper into his lips, "Me."

A smile crosses his lips. "Well, that is true. I guess spending time with you, no matter how it is spent, is far better than anything Port Charles has to offer."

I bob my head. "I'm glad you're starting to see things my way."

He wags his finger at me. "I'll go along with this, but I need something in return."

I raise an eyebrow suspiciously. "What?"

"I get one topless show," he says with a smile, as he holds up his forefinger.

I shake my head, as I laugh and swat his chest.

Just then, Epiphany walks into the station. She eyes Patrick, as she tilts her head. "Now, Dr. Drake, I realize that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but you know I'll eventually find out. So why don't you do yourself a favor and keep the embarrassing moments to a minimum."

Patrick simply groans and rolls his eyes.

---

Patrick takes his seat beside me on the airplane and buckles himself in, then offers me a wide, dimpled grin. "Vegas, baby!"

I groan. He's been saying 'Vegas, baby' ever since we woke up this morning.

"Can I get an estimated time as to when you plan on not saying that anymore? You know, so I can consider whether or not I want to just fling you off this airplane now and save me from me having to listen to it."

"Grumpy," he mutters.

I shake my head. "I'm not grumpy."

He shrugs. "I'd be grumpy to if I were giving me up for three days."

I roll my eyes and scoff. "Your arrogance knows no bounds."

His grin continues to widen. "Once you go Drake-…"

I clamp my hand over his mouth and shake my head. "Don't."

His eyes smile at me over my palm. I slowly remove my hand. I eye him for a moment. "Come to think of it, why are you so happy and excited? You've been pouting ever since I laid down the ground rules. What changed?"

He cocks his head. "I figure I should just make the best of it. No point in ruining our time in Vegas by being upset about something I can't change."

"Wow, that's uncharacteristically mature of you."

"Look at me, I'm growing," he replies with a grin. He then adds jokingly, "So want to join the Mile High Club?"

I laugh, but continue to eye him. I'm not quite buying this sudden maturation of his. He's up to something. I just know it.

---

Patrick and I check into our rooms at the beautiful Venetian and then ride the elevator up to our floor. We walk down the hallway and I stop at my room: 916. I take my keycard out and begin to place it in, when I realize Patrick hasn't continued onto his room next door. Instead, he's standing close behind me, leaning down, his breath washing across my neck.

I turn around, my eyes meeting his and his lips dangerously close. I hook my thumb to my left. "I believe your room is the next one down."

"I figured I should check your room out though. Make sure it's safe and secure. You're a young, beautiful woman in a strange city. You can never be too careful."

I smile. "I think you're forgetting that I saved your ass from a snake in the jungle. I can take care of myself."

He shrugs. "Okay, I'm right next door if you need me."

He leans down and gives me a kiss on the lips before I can stop him. He then heads toward his room, throwing me a dimpled smile over his shoulder.

I shake my head, as I slip my keycard in and walk into my room. The "standard room" at the Venetian is really a suite. It has a king size bed in the center, with a canopy draped over it at the headboard. There's a sunken living room and a huge picture window that offers a great view of The Strip. The spacious marble bathroom has a Jacuzzi tub and a large glass-enclosed shower.

I sigh. I wish I could share this with Patrick. I quickly shake my head free of those thoughts. I begin to unpack my belongings, hanging my clothes in the closet and putting the rest in the bureau. After about ten minutes, I hear a knock. I shake my head, smiling. Patrick. Honestly, what am I going to do with that man?

I drop my toiletry bag onto the counter in the bathroom and walk to the door. I open the door, "Patrick, I'm not letting you in so-…"

My voice trails off and my brow furrows, as my eyes land on nothing but empty space. I stick my head out the door and look down the hallway, but see nothing. Then I hear the knock again. What the hell?

I close the door and look around the room. It's then that I notice the door next to the bed. I walk over to it and pull on the knob, my eyes landing on Patrick's grinning figure, leaning against his own door.

I shake my head and smile. "Adjoining rooms."

He nods. "Yeah, how about that?"

"I don't remember requesting adjoining rooms"

"I do," he says, eyes twinkling.

"I knew you were up to something. I knew that your sudden maturity was bogus."

His arm darts out and he snakes it around my waist, pulling me across the threshold into his room. "Come on now, this is better, isn't it? You have your room, I have my room, but we're still close to each other. This way, when you find yourself aching for me tonight as you toss and turn in that big, lonely, cold – did I mention lonely? – bed, you can just come on over here and join me."

I shake my head, as I slip out of his arms and take a few steps back over the threshold. "Not gonna happen." I then gesture to the door. "You'll notice that the other side of these doors don't have a knob, so that means if I close my door then you can't come in."

"I didn't say anything about going into your room. You'll be the one who can't handle this and will seek me out. And my door is always open."

"Well, mine isn't," I say with a grin, as I move to close the door.

He sticks his foot out and jams it under it so it won't close. Then he leans forward and whispers into my lips. "That door won't stay closed for long."

I feel my breath catch in my chest as I ready for his kiss, but he just dips his head and removes his foot.

I slowly close the door. This is not going to be easy.

---

I just finish unpacking, when my phone rings. I go to answer it.

"Hello?"

"You want to go have some fun?"

I smile at his voice. I love the sound of his voice.

"Raul? Sure, but meet me in the lobby. My boyfriend is right next door and I wouldn't want him to catch us."

I can hear the grin in his voice. "You would cheat on me with a guy named Raul?"

"You haven't seen Raul. You know Latin men."

"Actually, I don't," he says in a laugh. His laugh subsides and he says, "Go to your door."

I wrinkle my brow. "Okay."

I walk to the door and open it, my eyes landing on his figure, a grin across his lips. He smiles at me, as he clicks his cell phone closed.

He shakes his head. "Not good. This just proves you shouldn't be alone. You didn't look in the peep hole and you didn't ask who it was. There's no telling who could be lurking behind that door."

"Yeah, it could be some sex-crazed guy who won't stop bothering me," I say with a tilt of my head.

"You mean Raul?" He shakes his head and then extends his hand, "Ready to go?"

I slip my hand into his. "Sure." I then close my door behind me. I look up at him as we walk down the hallway. "So, what do you have in mind?"

His eyes twinkle at me. "You don't want to know what I have in mind."

I roll my eyes and his chest. "Come on, seriously."

"Well, we have tonight free. We don't have to check in for the conference until tomorrow morning. How about a little gambling?" He pauses and then adds with a smile, "I can hardly wait to get started losing."

I bob my head. "Sounds great, but do you think we could grab something to eat first? I'm starving."

---

Patrick and I decide to go to the new restaurant AquaKnox, but there's a wait, so we go to the bar until seats become available. We sit and talk for a while, as I repeatedly push his hand off my thigh or swat his lips away from my neck, smiling and laughing as I do it.

"Well, from the looks of it, sweetie, I think I spotted another couple about to walk down the aisle. They can't seem to keep their hands off each other either!"

Patrick and I exchange a look, as we swivel in our seats to look in the direction the voice is coming. Our eyes land on this young yuppie couple, complete with sweaters wrapped around their shoulders. She's tall and thin. Her skin is a golden tan and her short blonde hair is cut into a flippy, perky little bob. Her smile is the artificial type I can't stand. The man is an inch shorter than her, with all-American boy next door good looks. His hair is a light brown, cut close to his head with a soft wave through it. His eyes are pale blue and he has full red lips. They look like life-size versions of Ken and Barbie, except Ken and Barbie seemed less plastic.

I clear my throat. "Oh, so you guys are getting married."

"Tomorrow!" the woman says, as she sticks her hand out, showing off a huge diamond ring and bouncing up and down.

The man then extends his hand. "I'm Ken Hinkley and this is my fiancee, Barbie Tillsdale."

Patrick's mouth drops open and we exchange another look. Ken and Barbie. They really are a life-size version of Ken and Barbie? They must be joking.

Barbie notices our reactions. "I know, how corny, right? Ken and Barbie. I thought the same thing when I met Ken. I said to myself, 'Barbie, you cannot fall for a man named Ken. You'll never live it down!'" She pauses and then shrugs, looking at him. "But you know what they say. You can't help who you fall in love with."

I glance over at Patrick. "No, you can't."

And I'm so glad you can't. Because if I could have helped myself, then I may have missed out on the best thing to ever happen to me.

Ken smiles at us. "So, when's your big day?"

Patrick shakes his head. "Uh, we're not getting married."

"Oh, sorry, I just assumed the way you two were acting with each other that a trip down the aisle couldn't be far off."

Patrick turns his head, his eyes sweeping across my face. "I wouldn't rule anything out."

My eyes widen at the look on his face. We've never actually discussed marriage before, but it seems that's where we're headed eventually. We're already living together and we've both told each other we can't imagine our futures without the other in it. And we did just have that moment about family and kids a couple of months back at his aunt's. The truth is, we've already pledged ourselves to one another, but we've never officially discussed marriage. What if he thinks it's just a piece of paper and that we don't need it? That we're fine the way we are and can live happily like that forever?

But I guess the real reason I've never brought it up is because there is still something in the back of my mind that is scared if I do, it will cause all the fears and insecurities that were holding him back to resurface. He was afraid that he wasn't enough for me, that he couldn't give me what I deserved, but then he realized that no matter how he felt he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be with me. Since then, I've tried to show him that he's everything I could ever want or need. That I love him just the way he is and I always will. I feel like those fears and insecurities of his have disappeared, but how can I know for sure? How can I be sure that he hasn't just hidden them away, buried them deep inside?

But the way he just looked at me and the tone in his voice, makes me believe that maybe those feelings really are a thing of the past. Maybe this is something that he truly does want to have with me.

Plus, he did promise to do all the things on the list and that includes number 25.

Ken comes to sit next to Patrick and Barbie joins me. They proceed to talk incessantly about their beautiful wedding. We're saved when their names are called for their table. They both stand and Patrick and I are shocked when they throw their arms around us, giving us their best wishes for the future. We congratulate them on their upcoming nuptials. And then they're gone. Thank God.

I turn to Patrick. "Oh my God. How annoying were they?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Ken and Barbie? Seriously?"

I laugh. "I know! It's unbelievable. I mean, how cutesy and corny can you get?"

He offers me a crooked grin. "Thank God, I'm not named Batman. We wouldn't be able to be together."

I laugh. "Hey, what are you implying about Batman and Robin's sexuality?"

"Come on now, who did they think they were fooling?"

Another laugh flows out of my mouth, as our names are called for our table. I reach behind me to get my purse from my chair, but I find it's missing. I move my eyes to the floor, but it's not there.

"Patrick, do you see my purse anywhere?"

He looks around, but comes up empty. We both exchange a worried look. He suddenly pats his suit jacket, and then lets out a groan.

"My wallet's gone."

"You're kidding!"

He looks at me sternly. "Do I look like I'm kidding!"

My eyes widen. "Ken and Barbie stole our things!"

And, yes, I know how ridiculous that sounded.

Patrick slams his fist down on the counter. "Ken and Barbie. I knew that was too absurd to be true."

He then jumps up and runs into the dining area, scanning the tables. He shakes his head. Of course, they're not going to stick around after robbing us blind to enjoy a nice, romantic dinner.

"What are we going to do?" he says, walking back over to me. "All of our money, credit cards, I.D.s are gone."

"Plane tickets home," I say quietly. "I never took them out of my purse."

He blows out a breath, grabs my hand and we leave the restaurant. Once outside, he finds his cell in his pants pocket, sighing in relief that it's there. We both spend the next fifteen minutes calling our credit card companies and reporting our cards stolen.

We finally hang up and I look at him. "We're going to have to call home and see if someone can wire us some money."

He shakes his head. "Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Because then everyone at the hospital will find out. And I'll once again have to deal with Epiphany's teasing and jokes."

My eyes nearly fall out of my head. "You're kidding, right? We're stranded in a strange city without a cent to our names and you're worried about bruising your ego?" I groan and shake my head. "It could have happened to anyone. Plus, it didn't just happen to you. It happened to both of us."

He arches an eyebrow. "Ken and Barbie? Come on, Robin, we'll be laughing stocks and I will bear the brunt. I can just imagine the jokes."

I sigh. "This is when I need you to act like a grown up, Patrick. Not a twelve year old boy. We need to call home, tell them what happened, and ask for help."

He shakes his head. "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

I set my jaw. "We're going to be staying in Vegas for the foreseeable future if we don't call and ask for help, Patrick!"

"Don't worry, we'll be fine. I'll think of something."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Oh, I really can't wait to hear this."

His eyes roam around, until they finally land on the casino.

He claps his hand together. "I'll just win us some money."

I roll my eyes. "Great plan, I especially like how you spent 2.5 seconds formulating it. There's one teensy thing you overlooked though. Gambling requires money, of which we have none."

"That's no problem at all."

He then takes my hand and practically drags me into the casino. He walks a bit and then pushes on my shoulders, so that I take a seat at a slot machine. He sits down next to me, his head swiveling to look around.

"What are you doing?"

A smile spreads across his lips, as his head stops moving, his gaze landing on a busty blonde in a tight red dress, who's smiling and eyeing him. My lips turn downward in disgust.

"You can't even stop flirting in our moment of need. You should be studied."

He shakes his head and turns to me. "I was flirting for a good cause."

"This I gotta hear."

"I'm going to make her give me some money."

I laugh. "Oh, really. And how do you plan on doing that?"

He grins. "Charm, baby, charm. A beautiful woman will do pretty much anything if you make her feel special. Watch and learn."

I watch in amusement, as he gets up and walks over to the woman. He leans against the slot machine next to her, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling down at her. They talk for a few moments, as she smiles and laughs at him He then glances over his shoulder, hooking his thumb in my direction. My brow furrows. What is he doing?

After a few more moments, her lips suddenly turn downward. She brings her hand up and slaps him across the cheek. Then she throws her drink in his face and stalks off. My mouth hangs open wide and I have to swallow to keep from bursting out in uncontrollable laughter.

He walks back over to me, head bowed, as he rubs at his cheek.

"So, how did it go?" I ask, trying to keep a straight face.

"Funny."

"What? The Drake charm failed? What did you say to her? Pretend I'm her."

He lets out a groan, but complies. He forms the same stance and proceeds to feed me a bunch of lame stuff about how beautiful I am.

"Get to the good part," I say impatiently, waving my hand.

He licks at his lips and glances over his shoulder, hooking his thumb as he did before. "I bet my friend over there twenty dollars that I could get a beautiful woman to go up to my room with me in less than a minute. But you are so interesting and captivating that I just realized my time's run out. So, since it's all your fault I just lost twenty bucks, how about you give me the twenty bucks and let me take you upstairs anyway?"

I bring my hand up and slap him. His eyes widen at me. "What was that for?"

I grin. "Sorry, I thought we were recreating the scene. I was just staying in character."

He groans and rubs at his red cheek.

I smile and bring my hand up to it, swatting his away. "Are you okay?"

"My ego's bruised more than my face is. That always works."

"You're kidding, right? That's actually worked on women before?"

"Well, they usually laugh and playfully hand me twenty bucks, before we go…you know. But, yeah, it works. I don't know why it didn't work on her. Maybe I've lost my touch. Maybe it's your fault. I'm out of practice."

"Maybe it's because you hit on a woman who actually has a little self-respect and dignity. Patrick, it was like you were propositioning her. That's how you make her feel special? You basically offered sex in exchange for money."

"That's not true. I wanted the money upfront."

I shake my head. "You're pathetic."

"Oh, you think you can do better?"

"I know I can do better."

Patrick laughs. "I'd love to see you try."

"What? You think my womanly charms only work on you?"

He smiles and waves at me. "Go. Prove me wrong."

I scan the room, finding a handsome man with blonde hair sitting a few slots down, staring at me. I smile at Patrick before walking over to him. I sit down, crossing my legs, and then offer him a slow, seductive smile. I then lean in close and whisper into his ear. He laughs and then hands me twenty dollars. I then walk back over to Patrick, who's staring at me with wide eyes.

"What did you say to him?"

I smile and stand on my tiptoes. I lean in close and whisper in his ear, "See that guy over there? That one with the red cheek? That's my boyfriend. We had all of our money and plane tickets stolen, but his ego is so big he won't let us call home for help. Now, I'm left to grovel for money from a nice, generous, mature man, so we can gamble to try recoup our losses. Could you please spare twenty bucks?"

I then pull back and look up at him, smiling. He shakes his head. "That actually worked?"

I nod, holding up the twenty. "The truth always works."

He tries to snatch it from my hand, but I pull it out of his reach. "Not tonight. I'm tired from the flight and, you know, being robbed. We'll do it in the morning."

He sighs. "All right. I'm going to go to the front desk and see if they can replace our keycards."

Fortunately, being robbed has made me lose my appetite considering we don't have any money to buy food.

---

I lay in bed, staring at the clock. We've been back in the room for forty-five minutes and I've been lying in bed staring at the clock for thirty of those minutes. I can't do this. I miss having him next to me. I miss feeling his arms around me. I miss feeling his warm breath on my neck. It's not even about sex. It's about how safe, content and at peace I feel falling asleep beside him.

I jump out of bed and walk to my adjoining door. I put my hand on the knob and then shake my head. No. I need to be strong. There's a reason I insisted on this separate rooms thing. I have to think about work first. I have to be professional.

I pace by the bed, then put my ear to the wall. I don't hear anything. I don't know what I expect to hear. Restless tossing and turning? Him calling out my name? How pathetic am I?

I shake my head and sit down on the bed, my eyes staring at the door. I sigh. Oh hell. Screw professional.

I jump off the bed and quickly turn the knob, throwing the door open. My eyes land on Patrick's smiling figure, standing very much the way he was earlier today, leaning against his open door.

"Told you so," he says with a grin.

"Shut up," I say, as I throw my arms around his neck and cover my mouth with his.

I then pull back and look at him. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Since I heard you climb into bed. Thin walls."

"And what if I never opened the door? Were you just planning on standing there all night?"

"I knew it wouldn't take you long to realize just how lonely that bed really is without me."

I sigh. Okay, so maybe I won't completely screw professional. "We'll share a bed, but nothing physical. We need to stay professional."

He doesn't say a word. He just takes my hand in his and then leads me to his bed. I slip under the covers and then feel him slide behind me. He pulls me close to him and wraps his arm around my waist. I find his fingers and link them. He nuzzles my neck and kisses it softly, before his warm breath touches my ear.

"This is more like it."

I smile. Yes, it is.

---

The next morning, we go to check in for the conference first thing. We figure we'll check in, gamble a bit to get some money so we don't starve to death, and then go to the opening lecture at 10:00 o'clock. Patrick goes to check us in and I see him shaking his head, and arguing with the woman. He finally blows out a breath and walks over to me.

"They won't let us check-in because we don't have the confirmation cards they sent us in the mail and we don't have any I.D. to prove who we are."

"They can ask the hotel clerk. She checked us in. She knows we're here for the conference. The hospital is paying for our rooms."

"I said that. She said without proper identification and the confirmation cards there's nothing she can do. It's policy."

"What about if we call Alan and have him vouch for us?"

"You know what I'm going to say to that."

I roll my eyes. "I know that you're being an immature child. That's what I know."

He shrugs. "So we don't get to go to the conference. There are worst things."

"Patrick, that's what we came to Vegas for."

"Look, we have more important things to worry about now anyway. Like how we're going to get home and what we're going to eat."

I groan and hand him the twenty. "All right. Let's gamble."

---

Patrick and I walk into the casino. He finds a slot machine and sits down. But he no sooner puts the quarter in, when he's hit in the head with a large leather pocketbook. My eyes widen and my mouth drops open, as he snaps his head to his right. The owner of the pocketbook is an old woman with thick glasses, beady eyes and curly gray hair.

"I'm playing that machine, buddy!" she snarls.

He gestures to the machine she's sitting at. "No, you're playing that machine."

"I'm playing both."

"That's not allowed."

"Of course, it is! I do it all the time! Don't you tell me what's allowed!"

Patrick opens his mouth to reply, but I grab him by the arm and pull him off the seat. The woman immediately reaches over and pulls the handle. The slots spin, stopping one by one. They stop on three lemons. The lights go off, bells start ringing, and change comes pouring out of the slot.

Patrick turns to me, his face growing red. "That was my quarter!"

I rub his back. "Let it go, baby."

"No, that was my quarter. Why did you pull me away?"

"Because I really didn't want you to get in a shouting match with one of the Golden Girls and end up in Casino Jail!"

"There's no such thing as Casino Jail."

I raise an eyebrow at him.

He sighs. "Fine, let's find another machine."

---

Patrick plays on the slots for a little while, earning enough money to keep playing. After two hours though, we only have $25.00 to show for it, only five dollars more than we started with.

Patrick glances over at a room to our right with a lit up sign that says "BINGO".

He turns to me and smiles. "Bingo!"

I shake my head. "You can't be serious. You want to spend the rest of our money on a couple of games of Bingo? That room's packed. Our chances of winning anything at all aren't good. At least on the slots and other games we have a chance of winning something."

"I'm an expert Bingo player, Robin. My grandmother used to take me to her games at the Senior Center all the time when I was a kid."

I groan. "An expert Bingo player? There's no skill involved in Bingo, Patrick. It's a game of chance. It all depends on the card you get."

I realize I'm now talking to myself because he's already headed toward the Bingo room. I sigh and follow after him. I catch up with him just in time to see him pay twenty dollars for a sheet with six cards.

Great. Now we have $5.00 to our names. And we still haven't eaten yet, unless you want to count those mints at the front desk that I slipped into my pocket and have been popping.

The game's about to start and the room is packed. There are only two seats left. Patrick and I make our way to our seats. We're about to sit down, when my eyes land on the woman sitting next to us. It's Slot Hog Lady. You've got to be kidding me.

She glares up at us and scowls, her dentures nearly falling out of her mouth.

"You," she growls.

Patrick grits his teeth. "That was my quarter! That was my money you won! You're a thief."

She shakes her head, the loose skin of her neck flying back and forth. "Oh, shut your trap, John Stamos."

My brow furrows and I eye Patrick. John Stamos? Hmm, maybe there's a resemblance with the hair and the dimple.

"What? I'm not-..."

"Sit down!" an old man behind us yells.

Peanuts suddenly come flying at our heads. I duck just in time, but a peanut hits Patrick in the eye. His hand flies up to his eye.

I cup his face. "Oh my God, are you okay?"

He squints at me, but says calmly. "Let's play Bingo."

The announcer says they're playing Four Corners first and then starts calling out letter and number combinations. He goes so fast that I'm not sure how Patrick keeps up, but he does. His hand darts around, as he quickly places the chips on the card. I smile, as I notice one card needs just one more combination: N-24.

I smile and hit Patrick's arm. "Look."

"I know," he says quietly, eyes focused on the card.

"N-24."

My eyes grow big and Patrick's lips curl into a smile, as he puts his chip down. He then throws his arms up and says, "Bin-..."

His voice cuts off, as Slot Hog Lady sweeps her arm across his sheet of cards, knocking all of the chips to the floor.

Patrick's mouth drops open and a vein pops out of his neck. I half-expect smoke to start coming out of his ears.

She smiles up at him. "Oops. Sorry. I have a condition that causes my limbs to spontaneously spasm."

Patrick looks as if he's about to smother the woman with her own sheet of bingo cards, so I grab him by the elbow. "Let's go."

I then proceed to drag him out of the Bingo room.

---

Patrick and I spend the rest of our pathetic day staring forlornly at our $5.00, taking turns stealing mints from the front desk, and combing casino floors for dropped money. The highlight of our day is when Patrick finds a quarter in the change slot of one of the pay phones.

It's nearly 9:00. I look over at him and sigh. "Do you want to go back up to the room? Maybe they left us those little chocolate mint candies."

He doesn't say a word. He just takes my hand. We're walking down the hallway, when something catches my eyes. I stop abruptly at the door to the Venetian Ballroom. It's open and there are preparations underway for a wedding reception. It's beautifully decorated and has high ceilings. I look at the large dance floor and I feel my breath catch in my chest, as I imagine Patrick and I swaying in each other's arms, as we dance our first dance as husband and wife.

I suddenly can feel Patrick staring at me and my face flushes. I offer him a sheepish grin. "Sorry."

His lips curl into a soft grin and he slips his arms around me from behind. He then whispers in my ear, "Someday."

I smile, the simple word all I need to know that this is something he truly wants.

He then adds, a grin in his tone. "Just think, we'll already have the poorer part down pat."

I laugh and turn around in his arms, meeting his eyes. My laugh subsides, as I see the serious look in his eyes. I bring my hand to his cheek. It's then that I realize we can get through anything as long as we're together.

He brings his lips to mine, then takes my hand again, and we walk to the elevator. We ride the elevator up, walk down the hallway and enter his room. He closes the door behind us and then turns around. He looks down at me, his expression softening.

"I wanted tonight to be special," he says softy.

My brow wrinkles. "Why? What's special about today?"

"It's May 29th," he says.

It takes me a moment to figure out what he's talking about. Then a slow smile spreads across my lips. "The first time we made love. It was a year ago today." I shake my head, "I can't believe you remembered that it was today."

He smiles, as his eyes meet mine. "I'll never forget anything about that day. Despite my hang-ups, I remember thinking the next day that it was the best night of my life. Since then, you've given me night after night for it to compete with."

I feel tears begin to sting my eyelids, as he cups my face with his hands. "I had it all planned. I was going to arrange for a candlelight dinner in the room. Then we were going to take a gondola ride in their version of the Grand Canal. After that, drinks and dancing at Tao downstairs." He smiles. "Then we were going to come up here and I was going to do my best to convince you that our anniversary needed to be commemorated properly, if you know what I mean."

I laugh and then bring my lips to his. After a few moments, he pulls back and looks down at me, "So about this whole no mixing business with pleasure thing."

I smile. "Who ever came up with such a terrible idea?"

He laughs, but it soon fades, as his eyes capture mine. He swallows hard and then takes my hand in his. He leads me to the bathroom and then glances at the shower. "I was thinking a long, hot shower would be just the thing to wipe away thoughts of today." He pauses and then adds with a grin, his eyes twinking. "Plus, it's something we can do that's free."

I nod. "Great thought."

His eyes never leave mine, as he brings his hand up to my blouse and slowly starts to undo my buttons. He brings his lips to my chest, kissing the skin he's exposing on the way. I close my eyes, as I bring my hand to the hair at the nape of his neck. I let out a little giggle as he undoes the last button and kisses my belly button. He then straightens, his eyes darkening as he stares at me in my black lace bra. He pushes my shirt down my arms, then brings his hands to my skirt. He unbuttons the top button and then slides the zipper down. His hands move to my hips and he slowly pushes the skirt down my thighs. He stands up and his eyes wash appreciatively over my body.

"So beautiful," he whispers.

I'm suddenly feeling like he has way too much clothes on. I bring my hands to his v-neck black t-shirt and pull it upwards. He assists me by raising his arms above his head and then throwing the shirt in the corner. I allow my hands to run over his finely toned chest, enjoying the feel of him. I bring my mouth to his chest and kiss my way down to his jeans, as his hands entangle in my hair. I quickly undo the button and pull down the zipper, then pull the pants down his legs. He kicks them off and then reaches down, cupping my face and pulling me up to meet his lips. He then pulls away and begins trailing kisses down my neck. I throw my head back and let a soft moan escape. His lips move to my shoulder, where he nips lightly, before bringing his fingers up to my bra straps. He slowly slides the bra straps down, but doesn't unhook the bra yet. His mouth moves to the crests of my breasts, as he kisses his way down to the crevice of my bra. His hand slides to cup my breast and I bring my hands to his back, digging my nails into his skin. I feel him reach behind me and unclasp the bra. He allows it to fall to the floor, as his hands move to massage my bare breasts, his fingertips flicking over the tender nipples.

I groan in disappointment as his hands leave my breasts and move to my hips. He hooks his thumbs into the thin strips of fabric of my black lace panties and then slides them down my legs. His eyes again sweep over me. I never feel more beautiful than when he's looking at me.

I bring my hands to the band of his boxers and quickly slide it downward, my eyes enjoying the sight of him already ready. He reaches over to the counter and pulls out a condom, then slips it on. He then takes a step to the shower and turns it on. He steps inside and extends his hand. I slip it into his and join him, as he closes the door.

He immediately pushes me up against the marble wall, pinning me with his body, as the water rains down around us. His lips move from my mouth down my neck to my right breast. I arch my back and thread my fingers through his wet hair, as he takes my nipple into his mouth. He nips lightly, then sucks gently. His tongue then darts out and he encircles the sensitive skin around my nipple over and over again. I moan, as I run my hands down his back. I almost can't take it anymore. He moves to my other breast and works the same magic.

I bring my lips to his shoulder and kiss it. He looks up at me, his eyes liquid and dark, but filled with love, always filled with love. He reaches up and brushes the strands of hair that are plastered to my face away. I wrap my arms around his neck, as he slides his hands down my back and then cups my bottom, lifting me up. I open my legs and wrap them around his hips. I let out a strangled moan as he enters me. He plants his hands on the wall to brace us, as we rock back and forth up against the marble. He finds my mouth again, running his tongue across my bottom lip before it dives in. Then, slowly, we finish, collapsing into each others arms, our skin slick with water and perspiration. He buries his head into the crook of my neck.

After a few moments, I cup his face and meets his eyes.

"I love you," I say softly. "I love you so much."

He smiles, as he brings his thumb up to my jawline and caresses it. "I love you, too. Happy anniversary, baby."

I smile, as a tear suddenly falls out of my eye and cascades down my cheek, mixing with the beads of water.

---

The next morning, Patrick and I have a renewed spirit. Last night energized us.

I smile at him. "I'm feeling lucky today."

He grins. "That's because you got lucky last night. Twice."

We'd made love again once we found our way to the bed. How else to commemorate such a memorable, special night?

I laugh and then my eyes land on the Roulette table. My laugh fades away though as I realize I won't be able to complete number 12 on my list. I can't afford to try to lose now.

Patrick notices my expression. "I know. I'm sorry."

I shrug. "It's okay. That just means we have a reason to come back."

He holds the $5.00 up. "I'm feeling good about Roulette though. I say we play our $5.00 there. See if we have truly changed our luck."

I nods, as he puts his arms around my shoulders, and kisses my forehead. We walk to the table. Patrick hands the croupier the $5.00 and he hands him five $1 chips. Patrick wastes no time in putting them down on five numbers.

I touch his arm. "Wait. That's all the money we have. Should you really just choose numbers so hastily?"

"It wasn't hasty," he says with a smile.

My brow creases. "What do you mean?"

He gestures to each number, smiling. "Black 29 is for the first time we, well, I think last night made that clear." I blush as I look at the croupier. "Red 7 is for December 7th, the day I first laid eyes on you."

I feel my throat tighten. "You remembered that date, too?"

"I remember everything about the moment that changed my life," he says softly.

I shake my head, as I struggle to fight tears. "It's just that most guys don't remember that kind of stuff."

He raises his eyebrows. "I'm not most guys."

I smile. Ain't that the truth.

He goes on. "Black 8 is for March 8th, the first time we kissed. Black 4 is for August 4th, the first time we said I love you and became a real couple. And Red 12 is for January 12th, the day we moved in together."

I shake my head in disbelief. I can't believe he remembers all of the important dates in our relationship.

I smile and say softly, "You're unbelievable."

"That's what all the girls say," he replies, cocking his head.

I swat his chest, as he leans down to kiss me. He then pulls back and whispers. "I figure those were the five luckiest days of my life. I can't think of a better bunch of numbers to turn our luck around."

I nods and touch his cheek. "Let's play."

Patrick nods at the croupier, who's been staring at us like we're insane, which is saying a lot because he must see a lot of drunk people. He spins the wheel and the little ball rolls around and around. I hold my breath. The ball finally stops on Black 4.

I look at Patrick, my mouth dropping open. He throws his arms around me. We won!

However, our joy is short-lived when we realize we only won a dollar. We realize, sadly, that we now have less money than when we started.

Patrick looks at me and smiles, holding the dollar up. "It's lucky though."

He then walks over to a slot machine and immediately hits 200 quarters.

I guess it is lucky.

He plays again and this time hits 400 quarters. He then takes the money to one of the Monopoly slots, which is more interactive. If you get into a special round, your money amounts are multiplied by numbers that come up. He plays that for a long time and keeps winning. It's incredible. He gets up to 1200 quarters.

He plays for a bit longer and then turns to me. "We have $500."

"That's not enough for two plane tickets home though," I say.

He shakes his head. "No, it's not. But I'm still feeling lucky and you still have an item on that list to complete."

I shake my head. "We can't try to lose money, Patrick. We need it."

"This is what we're going to do. You're going to take $100 dollars over to the Roulette table and play it however you want. If you lose, well, then you lost more money than you could afford to. You get to cross number 12 off. If you win, then we're doing okay. Either way, something good comes out of it."

I sigh. "Okay," I walk over to the Roulette table and play 'our numbers'.

The wheel spins and the ball bounces around. It finally comes to rest on Black 13.

I shake my head. "Figures."

"You get to cross number 12 off though," he says comfortingly.

I shrug sadly. "So? We're still stranded here."

He shakes his head and smiles. "No, we're not. We have enough to take the bus."

My eyes widen. "You want to take the bus across the country?"

"Sure, I bet we'll even be able to cross a few things off the list along the way. We still have a few unused vacation days. Might as well make the most of them."

"You'd really rather do that than swallow your pride and call home," I say, as more of a statement than a question. I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head, a smile upon my lips.

He nods, saying flatly, "Yes."

I grin at him. "You really want to travel across the country on a smelly, dirty bus with me?"

He touches my cheek. "I wouldn't want to travel across the country on a smelly, dirty bus with anyone else."

I laugh and then bring my lips to his. Me neither.

---  
**Up Next: To Do # 9 - Skydive**  
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph


	10. To Do 9: Skydive

**Title**: The List  
**Author**: Steph   
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Pairing**: Robin/Patrick  
**Category**: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV**: Robin  
**Disclaimer**: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers**: Nope.  
**Summary**: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**Note**: First, there's a small town in here and something it's famous for, but I did not make the town or what it's famous for up. Trust me, you can make that stuff up! Second, something happens to Patrick in this one that almost happened to my brother the other day. I thought of Patrick so I put it in. Third, take the skydiving stuff with a grain of salt. You'll see what I mean! Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought! -Steph

**--- The List: To Do # 9 - Skydive ---**

"BE AGGRESSIVE! BE-E AGGRESSIVE!"

I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temples. Please make it stop. Please make it stop. Please make it stop.

I slowly open my eyes and look at the front of the bus where the cheerleading squad of Polk High School sits, practicing their cheers. Their school bus broke down in Kansas City on the way to a cheerleading competition, so they decided to take our bus the rest of the way. Lucky us.

They've been practicing their cheers for three hours now. This is what I imagine hell must be like.

I look over at Patrick. He's simply grinning, as he enjoys watching their skinny little bare arms forming various gestures and catching glimpses of their perky faces in the rear view mirror. They had been kneeling on the seats and facing our way until the bus driver made them sit down.

I groan. "Do you mean to tell me their incessant cheering isn't bothering you?"

He answers without removing his gaze. "I think they're quite good. Very...spirited."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure it's their cheering skills that's got you fascinated."

He still won't look at me. "I appreciate a good cheer like anyone else."

I nod. "Right. Two words: Jail Bait."

"Isn't that one word?"

"Who cares? My point is they're underage."

He finally turns to look at me. "I'm sure a couple are eighteen."

My lips turn downward. "You're disgusting." He shrugs and turns his attention back to them.

I hear my stomach growl. We've been riding this bus for 26 hours. That's right, 26 hours. After we purchased our one-way bus tickets home, we bought lunch and then took $10.00 out of our remaining $71.34 and bought a bag full of junk food. We've had a few rest stops and changed buses a couple of times, but that's the only time we've been off the bus. We haven't had an actual meal in 15 hours.

Patrick's been popping M&M's while watching his little show, like this is a freakin' movie theater.

I turn to him and hold out my hand. "Can I have some M&M's please?"

He looks down and peeks into the bag. "I don't have very much left."

"You ate the whole bag! Patrick, we're supposed to share."

He removes a handful and then gives me the bag. I look inside. "There are only blue ones left."

"I don't like the blue ones."

My eyes narrow at him. "They all taste the same."

"Your opinion."

I grit my teeth. I am so not in the mood for his little quirks. I am getting crankier by the minute. I am tired and sweaty and dirty and hungry. The moment I sat down on this Godforsaken hell on wheels, I realized gum was on my seat. So now I have a huge, pink BubbleYum spot on my pants.

I look at Patrick again. He looks cool as a cucumber. He looks as fresh as the morning dew, as if he just woke up and showered. His hair is perfectly styled in that boyishly messy way and his skin is positively glowing. Sometimes I hate how blessed that man is. 

Meanwhile, my hair is greasy and hanging limply around my face. My skin is sticky and oily.

He realizes I'm staring at him and turns to me. "What?"

"How is it that you look so good?"

A wide grin spreads across his lips. "Genes, baby."

I let out a little groan and resist the urge to roll my eyes. "No, I mean we've been on this hot, dirty bus for 26 hours and you look like you just came from a restful day at the spa. I, on the other hand, look as if I've just crawled across a desert."

He leans over and kisses my forehead, while keeping one eye on the cheerleaders. "You don't look so bad."

My mouth drops open. "Gee, thanks!" 

Whatever happened to how beautiful I am? Not that I'd believe him right now.

I feel my jaw tighten as he looks back at the cheerleaders and they start a new cheer. Something that involves ticking and booming and requires them to move their arms from a 90 degree angle downward, like the hour hand on a clock.

I can't take it anymore. These girls are the last straw. They've pushed me over the edge.

I stick my hand into the bag and pull out some blue M&M's. I then chuck them toward the front of the bus.

They hit a few of the girls in the backs of their heads and the rest hit the ground. They let out screams, as if I'd just hurled grenades. They turn around and scan the back of the bus for the culprit, their eyes wide with shock. I sink down in my seat, as Patrick turns to me, his mouth agape.

"Did you just throw M&M's at the cheerleaders?"

I bite my lip guiltily. "I couldn't take it anymore!"

"Me watching them?"

"No, they're cheering! They pushed me over the edge!

"Ya think?"

It's then that I realize we've just pulled into their stop. I feel my chest deflate in relief as they gather their belongings and slowly file out of the bus. I have to swallow to suppress my laugh as I notice a few blue M&M's caught in their hair.

"Thank God," I mutter.

As they get off, five college guys get on. I smile. They're cute in a frat-boy-backwards-cap kind of way. This is more like it.

Patrick looks at me. "You've got to be kidding."

"What?"

"You like those guys?" he says.

"No!"

He shakes his head. It quickly becomes clear they're inebriated. The bus driver has to keep telling them to sit down and they keep trying to stick their heads out the windows. Okay, so maybe they're not so cute anymore.

Patrick lets out a huge breath and turns to me. "What else do we have to throw?"

I clutch the paper bag with our food close to my body. "No, we are not wasting anymore of the precious little food we have."

"I was actually thinking about something bigger and...harder."

Patrick's eyes raise as the tallest frat boy comes walking down the aisle toward us. His hair is short and light brown. His upper body is strong and solid, like he plays football. He sways with each step, then stops, his eyes landing on me. I see Patrick's jaw tighten. The frat boy leans over the seat in front of us and smiles at me. 

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing on here?"

Patrick swallows hard. "Look, why don't you just go back up front," he says calmly, but makes sure it doesn't seem like a request.

The frat boy's eyes slowly move from me to Patrick. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm her boyfriend," he says bitingly.

He laughs and turns back to look at me. "You can do so much better, sweetheart. Oh, the things I'd do to you."

And that's all it takes. I see Patrick's eyes flare and his face redden. He clenches and unclenches both fists, before bring his left hand up and hitting the frat boy square in the jaw. He stumbles backward, probably more than he would have had he been sober, and falls into the seat behind him, before rolling onto the floor.

His frat buddies come running down the aisle and, for a moment, I'm afraid they'll attack Patrick. But they just dissolve into a fit of giggles and then pull him up by his armpits and practically drag him back to the front of the bus.

Patrick sucks in a breath and shakes his hand. "Son of a bitch!" I see him bite at his bottom lip so hard I'm sure he'll draw blood. "Why does it always seem like it doesn't hurt in the movies?" he croaks.

I turn to him in concern and take his hand in mine. "Are you okay?"

His head snaps up. "Do I sound okay?"

"What were you thinking? You know how important your hands are."

He grits his teeth, as I rub at the red skin. "I was thinking, drunk or not, no guy has a right to speak to you like that."

I raise my eyes to him. "This wasn't ego? Because of what he said about you? This wasn't jealousy?"

He tightens his jaw. "This may surprise you, but I wouldn't risk my career over my ego or jealousy."

I arch my brow. "Oh really? What about wrestling those alligators? What about that risk to your precious hands? That wasn't about your ego?"

He shakes his head and drops his eyes. "You still don't get it, do you? Everything I've done during these little adventures has been about you, Robin."

I tilt my head, as he raises his eyes to meet mine. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that as much as I may act like completing these things is about my ego and as much as I may enjoy some of these once-in-a-lifetime opportunities or the chance to fulfill a childhood dream, I'm doing it for you. That alligator thing wasn't exactly my idea of fun either, but it was on your list and I know that one day you would look back on that list and regret it if one thing wasn't crossed off." He shakes his head, a smile appearing on his lips and his voice emerging softly, "In case you haven't realized it yet, I'd do anything for you."

I glance around the bus. "Except call home and ask for help."

"Except that," he replies with a laugh. "I'll admit, that was about ego."

I bring his hand up and kiss his knuckles. "All better?"

He offers me a crooked grin. "Yeah...if I were six."

I laugh. "Well, the bus driver said his dinner time is 6:00, so he should be finding a rest stop soon and then we can get some ice."

---

"Here," I say, as I hand Patrick a little plastic bag with ice.

We're sitting in a McDonald's. The frat boys are nowhere to be seen. They're probably passed out in the parking lot.

He applies the ice to his hand, wincing as it makes contact. After a couple of minutes, he stands up and jerks his thumb in the direction of the bathroom. "I think I'm going to use the bathroom before we leave." He leaves the ice on the table and walks away.

I sit quietly while I wait, smiling at the young family sitting across from me. The mother smiles down at her little girl, who is about six and has ketchup all over her face. The father picks up a napkin and wipes at her mouth. I'm captivated by the warm, ordinary little scene they present, when a boy about ten takes a seat across from them.

His blonde curls fly back and forth, as he talks excitedly and gestures with his hands. "You're not going to believe it, Dad! There's some guy stuck in a stall in the bathroom!"

I close my eyes and drop my head. Oh no. You've got to be kidding me. Will it ever end? 

I sigh and reluctantly do the only thing I can. I stand and walk to the men's bathroom. I should probably inform the manager and have him deal with it, but I know Patrick would be embarrassed. So now I'm forced to go where no woman should ever go: a man's bathroom...at a rest stop.

Eww. Gross.

I take a deep breath and hold it, as I push the door open. I quickly look around to make sure there are no other men in here. I then walk to the stalls, stopping at the third one with the feet peeking out from beneath.

"Patrick?"

"Yeah," he answers, his voice defeated.

"Are you stuck in there?"

"The latch is jammed. It won't open," he says quietly.

I look around at the stall. "Can you climb under and go out the other one?"

"Tried that already. I didn't fit."

"What about going over?"

"I tried that, too. I stood on the toilet but couldn't get enough leverage to get over."

I bite at my lip. "I have to get the manager. They'll have to take the door off."

He lets out a groan, but doesn't object. I leave the bathroom and find the restaurant manager. I inform him of our predicament and he calls to have the rest stop janitor come. The janitor arrives a few minutes later and goes to work on removing the hinges from the stall door. After nearly ten minutes, he removes the door, revealing Patrick sitting on the toilet, fully clothed. He stands and walks out.

I open my mouth to speak, but he holds his hand up. "Not a word. Not a word."

I nod and follow him out. Boy, the stories we're going to have to tell our children and grandchildren!

---

We arrive outside just in time to see the bus pull out of the lot. Gus, the driver, said we had twenty minutes. Anyone not back on by then, would be left behind. I glance at my watch. Twenty minutes exactly. He wasn't kidding.

Patrick sighs and sinks down onto the curb. 

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

My expression softens and I sit down next to him. I rub my hand down his back. "It's not your fault. That could have happened to anyone."

He shakes his head, his eyes rooted to the asphalt. "No, I mean I'm sorry I was such an arrogant ass and wouldn't let you call home for help. We wouldn't be stranded at a rest stop somewhere in Kansas if I had. We would be home, curled up together in our warm bed."

I nod. "Yeah, that's true."

His head snaps up and he looks at me. "What?"

"You're right," I say with a shrug of my shoulders.

He sighs. "Okay, maybe I'm not doing this pouting, self-pitying thing correctly. You're supposed to say something comforting and supportive now. Go."

"All right, give me a second," I say.

Hmm. Comforting and supportive, huh? I've got to admit, I'm coming up empty on this one. After all, I've just spent the last three days being robbed, losing all of my money, nearly starving to death, sitting on a dirty, smelly, hot bus while being tortured by cheerleaders and hit on by drunk frat boys...and now where stranded in Kansas. I'm not sure I have the energy for comforting and supportive.

He let's out an exaggerated breath. "Well, if it's going to take you that long..." he says, his voice trailing off.

I sigh and shake my head, as I realize something. "You know, I think we need to get something straight."

His head snaps up again and he looks at me, eyes narrowing at my tone. "Okay."

I take a deep breath. "Being together doesn't mean I'm going to soothe your conscience whenever you do something wrong. You need to be held responsible for the choices you make, Patrick. The mistakes you make. I'm not going to sit here and tell you that this wasn't your fault because it was. Yes, I know you didn't think we'd end up sitting on a curb in Kansas, but refusing to swallow your pride is what got us here, whether you like it or not."

He swallows hard. "Way to kick me when I'm down, Robin. Thanks."

My expression softens. "I'm just trying to get you to understand that your actions have consequences."

He drops his head and blows out a slow breath. "I was wondering when this would happen. I can't believe it took this long."

My brow furrows. "What?"

He kicks at a pebble with his foot. "I warned you. I warned you that you needed to be prepared for failure and disappointment if you were going to be with me."

I feel my breath catch in my chest. This is not where I expected this to go. I was hoping those fears of his were a thing of the past, but maybe they'll never truly go away.

I bring my hand to his cheek and he slowly turns to me. "Failure and disappointment are a part of life, Patrick. You will fail and disappointment me. And I will fail and disappointment you. It's a part of life, it's a part of being human. What counts is how we handle those failures and disappointments. I'm not going to just let you off the hook if it's warranted, but I'll never leave you. We'll work through whatever it is together. And I'll never stop loving you."

A bitter smile appears on his lips. "You might want to reconsider that."

I shake my head, smiling. "Sorry, can't do that. The truth is, I love you just the way you are. I don't want someone perfect."

His smile softens. "Well, I guess that's good news for me."

"There's no such thing anyway. And if there were, if I could choose between perfect, do-no-wrong, infallible Patrick versus inflated ego, stubborn as hell Patrick, there would be no choice. You're it for me. You, with all of your flaws. Those things make you who you are. They make you the man I fell in love with. I wouldn't have it any other way." His smile widens and he gives me a kiss on the lips. I finish, as he pulls back. "Like I said before though, that doesn't mean I'll always like what you do or won't hold you accountable. And it doesn't mean I don't want you to try to learn from your mistakes."

He scrunches up his nose. "Learn from my mistakes?"

I nod, smiling. "Yes, that's what mature adults do, Patrick."

He holds up a finger, grinning. "Whoa, you just said you love me the way I am. Now you're throwing out words like 'mature' and 'adult'. Come on, Robin. You can't have it both ways."

I shake my head, laughing, before cupping his face and kissing him. I then stand up and hold my hand out to him. "Come on, it's late and I'm exhausted. Let's find a place to stay for the night."

He slips his hand into mine and stands up.

---

Patrick and I had no choice but to walk until we found an inn or a motel. After about three miles, we saw a sign that read: Welcome to Cawker City! Home of the World's Largest Ball of Twine.

Wow. That's exciting stuff.

I turn to Patrick. "How's this for comforting? If you acted like a mature adult, we'd miss getting to see the World's Largest Ball of Twine."

Patrick laughs and shakes his head. "Thanks, that helps. Here's my question though: Does it really have a lot of competition? I mean, how many abnormally large balls of twine in the world can there be?"

I shrug, smiling as we continue to walk. Soon, we come to a little one-story white ranch house with a sign outside that reads, "Ma & Pa's Inn."

I turn to Patrick. "What do you think?"

"I think I'm tired of walking."

I look at the house. "This doesn't look like an inn. Inns are usually big, old houses two-three story that have been redone so the bedrooms can accommodate guests. I'd be surprised if this house has more than two bedrooms."

Patrick sighs and gestures to a sign. "Robin, it says it's an inn. I really don't think we're in a position to argue."

I eye the house skeptically, then shrug in defeat. Patrick and I walk up to the door. There's a sign that says 'Come in', so that's what we do.

We walk inside, a tiny desk immediately greeting us in the foyer that's about 3 by 3. There's a bell, so I ring it. A moment later, a man comes walking out of the kitchen that I spy off the living room, which is to the right of the entry way.

He smiles at me, revealing only gums. He looks so old I'm pretty sure he went to school with Jesus. He's rail thin and frail. His skin looks as if it were merely placed over a skeleton. He has a full head of shocking white hair that seems like it's been slicked back with vegetable oil. He wears a white button down shirt with brown suspenders and matching pants.

"Evening, folks. What can I do for you?"

Patrick smiles. "We'd like to rent a room for the night."

He nods and holds up a key. "You're in luck. We've got one room."

I tilt my head. "You mean one room left?"

He shakes his head, "No, ma'am, I mean one room. Ma and I have the other one."

I turn to Patrick, throwing him a pointed look. He doesn't meet my eyes.

"Pa! Who's there!" a shrill voice calls.

A large woman then appears from the direction 'Pa' came, wiping her chubby hands on a dishtowel. She's round and shapeless in her flowered house dress, with no discernible waist. Her face is featureless, with no chin or cheekbones to speak of. Her small green eyes sparkle like two tiny emeralds that have been stuffed into pizza dough. She has curly gray hair with a slight blue tint to it. Her lips are thin and red, but she possesses an easy smile. Her appearance makes it harder to tell her age, but she's got to be close to her husband's age. They're both 85 if they're a day. 

"Oh, we've got guests!" she says, clapping her hands. "And aren't you two just the cutest!"

Pa tells Patrick how much the room costs, a reasonable $7.50. Patrick pays him in cash.

Ma hands us a brochure. "Now I don't know how long you two are going to be in Cawker City, but while you're here make sure you see the World's Largest Ball of Twine. It weighs 17,554 pounds. That's almost 9 tons! It has a 40 foot circumference and is made from over 7,009,942 feet of twine! It would stretch 1,325 miles if unraveled!"

Patrick and I nod our heads, feigning interest.

Pa points to a picture on the brochure of people winding twine. "That's our Picnic and Twine-a-thon. If you're around in August, make sure to check it out. Or, better yet, just plan on coming back for the Twine-a-thon!"

Note to self: When you get home, call travel agent to arrange to come back to Cawker City for Twine-a-thon!

Pa smiles and then waves us to follow him.

We follow him through the living room, which is crowded with furniture and knick knacks. Apparently, someone likes panda bears because figurine after figurine lines the shelves and tables. We follow Pa down a narrow hallway. He stops at a door and opens it, flipping on the light.

"This here's your room."

Patrick and I look inside. It's obvious it was their son's room, which they've preserved. It's done in a cowboy theme. There are boots painted along the border of the ceiling and a twin bed in the corner has a comforter with horses, cowboy, and Indians all over it. A shelf contains countless toy horses.

I glance at Patrick before plastering on a smile, "This is a lovely room."

Ma's eyes cloud over. "Yes, it was our Barry's. It's been vacant since he left home."

I nod. "That's never easy."

She shakes her head. "No, it sure isn't. It's been a tough year. I mean, sixty-two years old and he decides to go out on his own. Well, every parent has to deal with this sooner or later. And now we're left with an empty nest. That's why we opened an inn."

Patrick looks at me and I can see him biting his lip to keep from laughing. Sixty-two years old?

I pat Ma's shoulder comfortingly. "That must have been very difficult."

Ma nods and takes a wadded up tissue from the pocket of her house dress and blows her nose.

"Oh, Ma! Stop you're blubbering and let these poor people get some rest. They look exhausted." He points to a door across the room. "The bathroom's through there."

I offer Pa a grateful smile, as he puts his arms around Ma's shoulders and guides her down the hallway. Patrick and I step inside the room and close the door, before bursting into laughter.

"Sixty-two!" I say.

"And they're acting like they weren't ready!" Patrick adds.

Our laughter slowly subsides and I eye him. "These people are crazy, Patrick. They'll probably kill us in our sleep."

He shakes his head. "The crazy people are never the ones you have to worry about. It's the ones who seem normal. When you watch the news, there's always the guy who says, 'He was a great neighbor. Always let me borrow his lawn mower. I never would have guessed you'd find ten heads in his freezer.' You never hear, 'I knew there was something off. I just knew he buried eight people in his basement'."

I laugh. "I hope you're right."

He sighs and shrugs. "That's a risk I'm willing to take. We're both exhausted, Robin."

I nod. "And I feel disgusting. I need to take a shower."

He smiles and wraps his arms around my waist, "I could use a nice, hot shower, too."

I grin as I think back to how we commemorated our 'anniversary' in Vegas.

"I don't know. I would actually like to shower. You know, with soap and shampoo."

His grin widens. "I can arrange that. We both need showers, so taking them together will save time and then the sooner we can crawl into that cozy little cowboy bed."

I chuckle. "I love it when you're efficient."

He waggles his eyebrows, then takes my hands in his. He leads me to the door, then spins around, his lips finding mine as he cups my face. His left hand then drops away and he reaches behind him for the doorknob. He opens the door and backpedals into the room. He bites at my bottom lip and runs his tongue across my teeth, as I giggle into his mouth.

"Don't mind me. I'll be out of your hair in just a minute."

My eyes fly open, and Patrick and I abruptly pull apart. Our heads snap downward in the direction of the voice. Our eyes nearly fall out of her heads as they land on Pa sitting in the bathtub, soaking in a thin layer of suds.

He looks like a chicken marinating.

"Oh God!" I say, as I bury my head in Patrick's chest.

"Don't be embarrassed kids. Ma and I used to get passionate back in our younger days, too. And it was like the world would just fall away."

Patrick sucks in a breath, as he probably tries to ward away those images, along with the one sitting in the tub.

"Sorry, we'll come back," he says and then pushes me forward out the door, closing it behind him.

I raise my head and then shake it, my lips turning downward. "Scarred. I am now scarred for life."

"You're not the only one," he says, as he shakes his entire body. He sighs. "I guess we're sharing a bathroom with Ma and Pa."

I groan and sink down onto the bed. "I just want to wash up. I want to wash off the bus smell!"

Patrick's eyes light up. He holds up a finger. "I'll be right back."

My brow furrows. "Where-..."

But he's out the door before I can get more than a word out. He reappears a moment later, locking the door behind him and pulling a chair from the desk by the window to wedge under the doorknob to the bathroom.

"What are you doing?"

"Door locks from the inside," he replies, as he walks toward me.

"I don't understand. What-..."

He holds his hands behind his back and demands, "Strip."

I roll my eyes. "I am so not in the mood, Patrick. Especially after that whole-..."

He pulls a wet dishtowel (not the one Ma was using) out from behind his back, smiling. "I'm going to give you a bath. You know, repay for that sponge bath you gave me when I was in the hospital."

I laugh. "Uh, I hope you plan on doing a better job than I did."

His eyes twinkle. "Undoubtedly. Now strip."

I quickly peel off my tank top and jeans, throwing them onto the floor. I move to remove my bra and panties, but he says, "Leave them."

He motions for me to lay down on the bed, face down. I comply, closing my eyes. He sits down next to me and brings the towel to my skin. I suck in a breath form his touch, not the cool wetness of the cloth. He slowly trails it down my back, rubbing it in circles. He goes down one leg, then up the other. His slow, sensual touch is driving me insane. I want him so bad right now.

I hear the grin in his voice. "This room looks like mine did when I was a kid." He pauses and then whispers in my ear, "And this brings back some very good memories of my teenage years."

I laugh, "Oh, so you bathed a lot of girls on your bed in your teenage years?"

"Well, I did something to them on my bed."

I reach my hand upward and smack his thigh. He chuckles.

He then brings the towel back up my back and to my neck, gently washing every inch. He then whispers in my ear. "Turn over."

I again comply, but keep my eyes closed. He brings the cloth down one leg again and then up the other, his hand sliding between my thighs and causing me to gasp. He then moves it up my stomach, stopping to make circles around my belly button. I smile, as I can feel him trace a heart, even through the cloth. His long fingers splay across my torso as he moves up my stomach. He brings the cloth up to the crevice of my bra and then over the crests of my breasts. It moves up to my neck and I sigh as he surprises me with a little kiss at the base of my throat. I then feel the cloth break contact and feel his fingers tips brush against my skin at the crevice of my bra. He undoes the front clasp and allow the bra to fall away. I smile at the freedom and his touch. He brings the cloth up again and moves it over my breasts, while massaging them in a way that makes me bite my lip. I swallow a moan.

He finishes making me very clean there and then pulls his hand away. I sigh from the lack of contact. I open my eyes and look downward. "Uh, I think you missed a spot."

He smiles at me. "I think I heard Pa leave if we want to try our hand at that shower. I promise I won't miss that spot again."

I wrinkle my nose. "I don't know. I still have disturbing images running through my head. Plus, it's kind of gross, don't you think? He was just soaking in that bathtub."

"I'll clean it for you," he says.

I laugh. "Yeah, right. You mean like you clean the bathtub at home?"

"What? I do."

I shake my head. "Leaving me messages on the mirror saying you think the shower is getting 'scummy' is not cleaning, Patrick."

He grins and shrugs. "I'll really clean it for you. Isn't that what a mature adult would do?"

I smile, as he walks toward the bathroom.

---

I snuggle up to Patrick, as I feel the warmth of the sun on my face. We had no choice but to sleep very close together in the twin bed. Not that we wanted a choice.

I nuzzle his neck and sigh in contentment, when I hear the door fly open.

"Rise and shine, lovebirds!" Ma says.

Patrick and I bolt up in bed, the sleepiness immediately gone from our eyes.

Patrick rubs at his face and whispers, "Didn't I lock that door last night?"

I answer out of the corner of my mouth. "She must have a key."

It's then that I notice she's carrying a tray with two glasses of orange juice and two bowls of oatmeal. My stomach growls. Patrick and I both detest oatmeal, but it's been so long since we had a real meal that we don't care.

She smiles, as she sets it down in front of us on the bed. "I don't know if Pa told you, but here at 'Ma & Pa's Inn' we offer complimentary breakfast in bed!"

I smile and move to sit against the headboard, as I pull the sheet around my naked body. Patrick does the same.

"Thank you," I say.

Patrick and I wait for her to leave, but instead she sits down on the end of the bed. I'm afraid that we may end up having another bed mishap from the sound it makes under her weight.

"Well, eat up before it gets cold!" she says 

Patrick and I exchange a look, before picking up our spoons. Just then, Pa arrives. I wait for him to shoo her out of the room, but he just sits down across from her.

"So, what brings you two kids through here?"

I swallow and then spend the next ten minutes explaining what we've been through over the last few days, including the list.

"A list, huh. Interesting," Ma comments. "Whattya got left to do on it?"

I reach down to my purse and pull out the piece of paper. I hand it to her. Her eyes scan the page and then her mouth drops into an 'o' and she squeals, as she turns to Pa and points at the paper.

"Pa, will you look at that? It must have been destiny that brought these two to our doorstep!"

Patrick's brow furrows as he glances at me. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, number 11, of course! It's your lucky day. Our Barry owns a skydiving company!"

I nearly choke on my oatmeal. I come up coughing.

If this is an 'inn' to these people, I can just imagine what a skydiving company is to their son. He probably hands you an umbrella as he pushes you out of a plane. Which is great...if you're Mary Poppins.

I swallow. "Oh really."

"Oh, yes, that's what his dream was. That's why he left home. He wanted to be independent and so he started his own business." She then turns to Pa. "Go call Barry and set the whole thing up. Tell him to give these young lovebirds a discount too."

I wave my hands as Pa stands. "No, please, don't go to any trouble. We really don't have time to go skydiving anyway. We have to be getting home."

Patrick nods. "Yeah, we really do."

But she waves a hand. "Don't be silly. You want to do things on your list and here's your chance. Pa will even drive you over there himself."

I look at Patrick and then say weakly, "Great."

---

So Barry's Skydiving Company is run out of a barn on a deserted farm about three miles away from his parents. He houses his plane in the barn and sleeps in the loft above. He uses the large plot of land to take off. I swallow and squeeze Patrick's hand in mine, as we follow Pa inside.

He looks down at me and tries to smile comfortingly, but fails.

Barry is the male version of his mother. He's like a blob with two little green eyes. His gray hair is thinning on top and he's made a comb over from ear to ear.

"Barry, this is Robin and Patrick. They would like to go skydiving today. Now you make sure to give them a discount."

Barry smiles at us. "Sure thing, Pa."

Pa then goes to stand in the corner. He wants to watch us. Barry walks to a desk in the corner next to a rusty tractor. I look at the small plane. It's paint job is peeling and I can see spots where it is also rusty.

I turn to Patrick. "I am not getting on that plane!"

"And you think I want to!"

"Well, what are we going to do?" I eye him. "Tell him you're scared. Tell him you're too chicken."

"Me? Why do I have to do it?"

"You can pull off scared better. You'll be more convincing."

He eyes me, "You seem pretty convincing to me right now."

I glance over at some green knapsacks in the corner by some bales of hay. "Those are the parachutes, Patrick."

"I'm sure they work, Robin. I mean, this guy wouldn't still be in business if it wasn't safe," he says, unable to hide the fear and uncertainty in his voice.

"Right and his parents run a top of the line inn! Patrick, Cawker City doesn't seem to be too concerned with setting high standards for their small businesses." I shake my head and point. "Those aren't parachutes. They're only parachutes if they open! Until then, they're just knapsacks!"

He shakes his head. "Well, I don't want to do this either, but I will if you want to. It's your list, so if you want to back out, you need to be the one to tell him."

I groan. Maybe it will be fine. Maybe he does know what he's doing.

Barry sighs and walks over to us with a napkin, "Well, darnesdest thing, I can find the paperwork. It basically just says you know the risks and you won't sue me if you die or are seriously injured or anything."

I hear Patrick suck in a breath, as my heart begins to race.

He hands us a napkin. "This is all I could find for writing on. I've got to get myself down to the store and buy some paper. Just sign this and I'll staple it right to the forms."

I squeeze my eyes shut. I must need to have my head examined. I look over at Pa who smiles and gives us the thumbs up. For some reason, I don't want to disappoint Ma and Pa.

"Um, is this all safe?" I ask.

Barry nods. "Sure, I have the highest safety rating of all the skydiving companies in Cawker City."

"How many skydiving companies are there?"

He smiles. "Well, I'm the only one, but I still got a good rating."

"What was it?" Patrick asks.

"Four out of five parachutes."

I refrain from asking why he didn't get the fifth parachute, but decide to take what I can get instead.

I look over at Patrick. "Are you sure about this?"

He swallows hard. "I told you I'd do anything for you."

I smile. "And that includes this?"

He grins and nods. "That includes this."

I look at Barry. "Um, is there any kind of training?"

He shakes his head. "Whattya need training for? You just strap on the parachute, pull the cord once you're clear of the plane, close your eyes, say a prayer and jump."

I'm pretty sure you're supposed to have some training before going skydiving!

Patrick rubs at his forehead, which is beaded with sweat. "Uh, how high do we go?"

Most planes go 15,000 feet when skydiving. At least, that's what I heard somewhere.

He gestures to the hunk of junk...I mean, plane. 

"This here plane only goes up 500 feet. Those parachutes are special to accommodate a much, much, much lesser altitude than usual." He then leans forward and says in a conspiratorial tone, "Don't tell anyone, but it's not technically skydiving. It's more like just falling from pretty high."

Huh. 500 feet. That doesn't sound so bad. Sounds a lot better than 15, 000 feet, that's for sure. I mean, we could still die, but as long as our parachutes open we should be okay. Right?

If I go through with this, I don't care if it's not 'technically skydiving'. I am crossing it off my list!

"And those parachutes open?" I ask.

He chuckles. "Of course."

I sigh in defeat. "Okay."

Barry smiles, as I sign the napkin and hand him $15.00, which is what he says it costs with the discount. Patrick's mouth falls open in shock, but he somehow manages to sign it. I turn to him, as Barry goes to get the parachutes.

"What's the matter?"

"I didn't think you were actually going to go through with it! Are you insane!"

"But you said you would go through with it if I wanted to!"

"That's because I was trying to be supportive and didn't want to seem like a chicken. I didn't think you'd actually go through with it though!"

Barry comes over to us and straps the parachutes on us and puts goggles over our eyes. I want to ask if we're supposed to wear helmets or special suits too, but I can't seem to find the words.

"It's too late now!" I say to Patrick through gritted teeth, as Barry leads us to the plane and Pa waves at us.

"It's not too late! Let's just make a run for it!" he whispers out of the corner of his mouth.

But we both must be too paralyzed by fear to make a move to escape. Instead, we step onto the plane. Barry goes to the front and starts it up. It makes a sound like a garbage disposal chewing up silverware. Then it sputters. Great. We'll probably die before we even get a chance to jump out of the plane.

He moves the plane out of the barn and down the 'runway'. It doesn't seem like it will be able to, but it manages to get off the ground and starts to climb upward.

Barry then puts it on auto pilot, which actually makes me feel safer now that he's not behind the wheel. He turns to us.

"Okay, whenever you're ready."

Patrick turns to me, smiling weakly. "I love you. It was nice while it lasted."

I bring my lips to his and kiss him. "I love you too."

I then take his hand in mine, as Barry opens the door. 500 feet is still pretty frightening. I swallow hard at the sight of the ground below.

We stand rooted to our spots. Neither one of us makes a move.

"What're you waiting for?" Barry asks.

We must be crazy! This must be from exhaustion and lack of food! We are doctors. We are sensible, rational people. Usually. What's wrong with us!

We both turn to each other and say in unison, "I can't do this."

We then turn to tell Barry, but he doesn't give us the chance. He puts his hands on our backs and gives us a shove.

Patrick and I both come flying out of the plane.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

That's what I try to scream but no words come out. I manage to look at Patrick, who's still holding my hand. He seems to be doing the same thing. His face is white as a ghost.

It finally dawns on me that I better pull the cord. I reach up and pull the cord. With a heavy sigh of relief, my parachute opens. I look over at Patrick. He's pulling on his cord, but nothing's happening. My eyes widen and my heart nearly beats out of my chest. He pulls again. Nothing. His eyes are huge with panic He then pulls one more time and, thankfully, it opens. I feel my chest deflate in relief.

Before we know it, the ground is getting closer. There's plenty of open land, but somehow we seem to find the one tree sitting in the middle. We're nearing the tree and I know we're not going to be able to avoid it. I close my eyes. I feel some branches whip across my body and then I feel a yank. I slowly open my eyes and find myself staring into Patrick's. I then lower them and realize we're dangling from the tree about ten feet above the ground.

But a smile crosses my lips. We're not dead.

Patrick grins at me. "What happens in Cawker City, stays in Cawker City."

I couldn't agree more.

-----  
**Up Next: To Do # 10 - Make a Complete and Utter Fool of Yourself.**  
I know what you're thinking. Haven't they already done this over and over again? Well, yes, but those were without trying, so they don't count. Now the object will be to purposely make a complete and utter fool of themselves.

Also, my brother almost got stuck in a bathroom stall the other day so that's why I put that in there.


	11. To Do 10:Make Complete Fool of Yourself

**Title **: The List  
**Author **: Steph  
**Rating **: PG  
**Pairing **: Robin/Patrick  
**Category **: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV **: Robin  
**Disclaimer **: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers **: Nope.  
**Summary **: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**Note **: Thanks for the feedback! Okay, so this chapter is ridiculous. I mean, the nature of the item on the list they're completing kind of demands that it be. If I were watching this happen on the show, I'd roll my eyes, wonder if it were a dream/fantasy sequence, then just sit back and enjoy it. So, take it for what it's worth! Oh and some of the things I have them do I found on the Internet so people have apparently done these things in real life before. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph

**--- The List: **_To Do # 10 - Make a Complete and Utter Fool of Yourself_ --- 

I groan and lean my head back on the seat, as I cross 'Skydive' off the list. My entire body's sore from spending two hours stuck in a tree. It took Barry and Pa an hour to find a ladder that would go high enough to reach us. Even then, it still couldn't quite reach us, so Barry and Pa decided that they would need to wrap a rope around our waists, then cut the parachute cord and we would be able to lower ourselves down to the ladder. Barry said he didn't have any rope, so he went in search of twine. And here's the ironic part - he didn't have any! Two hours later, some rope was found at Pa's and we were freed. Pa drove us back to the bus station. We had our ticket stubs so they let us get on the next bus going our way.

Patrick lets out a sigh and turns to me, leaning over to glance at the list. His brow furrows and he points at number 21. "Why isn't that one crossed off?"

I read it aloud. "Make a complete and utter fool of yourself."

He nods. "Yeah, haven't we done that one already...over and over again."

My lips curl into a smile. "Well, you certainly have."

He frowns. "You've had your moments, too."

I shrug my shoulders and tap the paper with my pen. "Those things that happened to us don't count."

"And why not?" he asks

"Because we didn't do them with the intention of making complete and utter fools of ourselves. They happened by accident. The point of the list is to set out to do each item. We can't just go cross them off now after the fact. Plus, they happened when trying to complete other items on the list. It just wouldn't be fair to cross it off."

His eyes grow wide. "Fair? Robin, it's your list. There are no rules. There's no fair. You decide what gets crossed off and when."

"That's right and that's what I just did."

He squeezes his eyes closed and runs his hand down his face, shaking his head. "I can't believe after everything we've been through you're going to now force us to try to make fools of ourselves."

I smile and pat his thigh. "Come on, it'll be fun. Freeing, really. I mean, to just do something with intention of making a fool of yourself is fun. You expect it, it's the desired result, so you can just let loose. Aren't you the one always telling me to just let loose?"

He mutters, "I knew that would come back to bite me in the ass someday."

I look around at the bus. It's pretty empty. There's a group of six female Senior Citizens apparently traveling to New York City. I know because they're wearing matching t-shirts that say, "NYC or Bust". The only other occupants is a family of three. The parents are sitting up front with the elderly ladies. Their young teenage son made it a point to get as far away from them as possible. He's chose to sit at the back of the bus, right across from us.

I turn to Patrick. "You know, we should just do it right now."

Patrick arches an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I guess my threshold for torture and humiliation is less than yours. I need to wait at least an hour before exposing myself again or my head will explode. You know, kind of like waiting an hour to go swimming after eating."

"That's a myth."

"Which one?"

"Come on," I say, elbowing him. "What better time? It's not like we'll ever see any of these people again. If we wait, then we might be forced to complete number 21 in the presence of our family, friends and co-workers. Hmm, I bet Epiphany will especially enjoy herself."

Patrick drops his head back onto the seat dramatically and blows out a long breath. "Fine. What did you have in mind?"

I tap my pen against my temple and then point it at him. "I have no idea. I was hoping you would have something."

He rolls his head over and looks at me. "Not a chance, babe."

"Excuse me?" the teenage boy across from us says, as he leans across the aisle.

Patrick and I eye him. He looks to be about fourteen with bright, curly red hair and freckles dotting his face. He has pale blue eyes and a wide smile reveals braces on his teeth. He's wearing baggy jeans and one of those funny t-shirts with messages across the front. His says, "The Thing About the Voices in My Head is They Actually Have Some Pretty Good Ideas".

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear. You're trying to think of something to do to make complete fools of yourselves, right?"

Patrick shifts in his seat, but nods. "Yeah, that's right."

A smile spreads across the boy's lips. "Oh, awesome! That is totally awesome! That makes this stupid, lame trip so much better! My parents," he says, shooting a glare to the front of the bus, "decided to take a cross country trip on a bus. I mean, who does that? I've seen this country from a bus window. You haven't seen Mt. Rushmore until you've seen it through a dirty glass window. At least, I will have visited the best restrooms the U.S. has to offer." He pauses and then sticks his hand out, "I'm Shawn by the way."

Patrick hesitates a moment before shaking his hand. "Patrick." He then gestures to me. "And this is my girlfriend, Robin."

I reach across Patrick and shake his hand. "Nice to meet you, Shawn."

He rubs his hands together. "So, I hope you don't think this is weird, but I have an idea for what you can do to humiliate yourselves."

It doesn't sound so good when he says it like that. I glance at his t-shirt again. I wonder who's idea this is: His or the voices in his head?"

He notices my eyes and offers me a sheepish grin. "Oh, that's only a joke." He then pauses and adds in a deadpan voice, holding up his forefinger, "There's just the one voice."

Patrick and I laugh, as Shawn slaps his knee.

Patrick looks over at him and smiles. It seems as if he actually likes a kid outside his own family.

"So what's this idea of yours?"

Shawn grins and leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "Okay, I went to my cousin's wedding a few weeks ago and her parents, my aunt and uncle, got really, really drunk. They forced the band to play this song by this really, really old group. Captain and Tentacle or something like that."

I smile. "Captain and Tennille?"

"That's it!" he says, pointing at me. He runs his tongue across his braces and makes a sucking noise. "And the song was really cheesy and corny and dumb."

"Love Will Keep Us Together," Patrick states flatly.

"Yes!" Shawn says and slaps Patrick's arm, as he jumps up and down excitedly.

I look at Shawn for a moment, wondering about the wisdom in accepting ideas from a boy wearing that t-shirt.

"So, anyway, they completely humiliated themselves. It didn't even matter that they were drunk. That song will make a complete fool out of anyone who sings it."

I glance at Patrick and he nods. I have to agree.

Patrick takes deep breath and slowly lets it out. "Okay, let's get this over with."

Shawn's eyes widen and he jumps out of his seat, throwing his arms in the air. "Really! Oh, awesome! Totally awesome! You guys are awesome!"

I smile at Patrick. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm all for crossing that one off as soon as possible. This idea is as good as any."

He then stands up and extends his hand to me. I place my hand in his and join him in the aisle.

Here goes nothing. Our intention is to feel completely foolish, so I don't see the point in wasting the energy being nervous. But Patrick and I still stand there, not saying a word.

Shawn leans over the seat and looks up at us. He says quietly, "Love, love will keep us together."

Patrick licks at his lips and I swallow hard. We sing in unison, our voices shaking, "Love, love will keep us together."

At the sound of our voices echoing around the bus, all six Senior Citizen heads and Shawn's parents turn to us.

Shawn smiles at me and whispers, "Own the song!"

I take a deep breath and turn to look at Patrick. "Think of me babe whenever,  
some sweet talking girl comes along, singing her song, don't mess around, you gotta be strong. Just stop, 'cause I really love you! Stop, I'll be thinking of you. Look in my heart and let love keep us together."

Despite the corniness of the song, I still find myself reacting to the lyrics as I look into his eyes.

He takes the next part, looking into my eyes as he sings. "You, you belong to me now. Ain't gonna set you free now. When those girls start hanging around, talking me down, hear with your heart and you won't hear a sound. Just stop, 'cause I really love you. Stop, I'll be thinking of you. Look in my heart and let love keep us together, what ever."

I look at Patrick in amazement. I just found another thing he's skilled at. The man can sing! I've heard him sing in the shower a little, but that's it. I didn't think his voice could get any sexier, but it obviously can. His singing voice is deep and husky and sexy as hell. And the way he looked at me when he sang those words? My knees got so weak I nearly fell over.

I must be just staring at him because he elbows me. "I, uh.." I realize then that I don't know the rest.

I whisper to Patrick. "I don't know anymore."

He puts his arm around me and says in my ear, "Me neither. Let's just finish with the chorus."

We then both sing, "Stop, 'cause I really love you. Stop, I'll be thinking of you. Look in my heart and let love...keep us together."

As we finish, our chests deflate in relief. We look at the other passengers. Patrick and I were so caught up in each other that we didn't really let ourselves feel embarrassed. But the moment these passengers burst out laughing at the crazy couple who just stood up and started singing like they're in some damn musical, we'll surely feel like complete and utter fools.

But instead of laughing, they start clapping and smiling. Patrick and I exchange a confused look.

We look down at Shawn who shrugs, "Maybe you do have to be drunk."

They liked us? They enjoyed it? They don't think we're insane?" I ask.

One of the Senior Citizens manages to stand, even with a cane. She has a straw hat on over her curly gray hair. "That was wonderful! I had no idea this was one of those entertainment buses. I thought it was just a Greyhound.

Patrick and I close our eyes and shake our heads. It's then that I realize in order to make a complete and utter fool of yourself you need the cooperation of others. If you fall down and no one's around to see it, do you feel embarrassed? Not really. Embarrassment comes from the reaction of others, from what they think of us and what they do to show it.

And these people are not cooperating!

I raise my hand. "This isn't an entertainment bus."

The woman's brow wrinkles. "Oh."

Just then, Shawn stands up. "But they are entertainers. They call themselves the...uh...Traveling...uh...Entertainers. They go around entertaining people in public places."

Patrick and I look at him in shock.

"Clever name," Patrick says through gritted teeth.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He whispers at us out of the corner of his mouth. "This way you can keep doing crazy stuff and they won't think anything of it."

I shake my head. "You don't get it. If they think we're entertaining them, then they'll react like they just did. They won't laugh at us and we won't feel like fools. It all depends on their reaction."

Shawn laughs. "Are you serious? Stick with me. I'll make sure you complete number 21. My friends and I come up with ways to make fools of ourselves all the time. I live in a small town. It's our entertainment. I'm an expert. Trust me, it doesn't matter what their reaction is if you make what you're doing stupid and crazy enough. You will feel like a fool."

I cover my face with my hands. Why are we listening to a fourteen year old Ronald McDonald look-a-like?

Patrick and I sit down. Shawn turns to us. I suddenly feel like he's our manager.

"All right, how about this? Have you see the movie 'Speed'?"

I roll my eyes and let out a loud groan. "Oh, God."

Patrick turns to Shawn a smile spread across his lips. "I love that movie!"

No kidding. He's made me watch it six times since we've been together.

Shawn's eyes light up. "Me too!" He pauses and then does his best Dennis Hopper impression, "Pop quiz, hotshot. There's a bomb on a bus. Once the bus goes 50 miles an hour, the bomb is armed. If it drops below 50, it blows up. What do you do? What do you do?"

Patrick laughs. "I love that line!"

I let out a breath. Great. I'm in love with a fourteen year old boy. And here I was thinking he was beginning to mature.

Shawn smiles, "So, why don't you recreate a scene from that movie? It's perfect. We are on a bus."

He must be kidding. That will be really embarrassing. There's no way Patrick would agree to-..."

"That's a great idea!" Patrick says, clapping his hands together.

"What?" I say weakly.

Shawn goes on, "Yeah, you can be like, 'There's a bomb on this bus'."

Patrick nods, as my eyes nearly fall out of my head.

"Yeah, sure, great idea...if you want to get arrested! Patrick, are you insane!"

Patrick smiles and puts his arm around my shoulders. "Robin, they think we're Traveling Entertainers."

"You do know how stupid that sounds, right?"

"Hey!" Shawn says.

"No offense, Shawn," I mutter. "Patrick, I really-..."

I'm cut off by Shawn standing up and yelling, "Scenes from the movie 'Speed'. Action!"

The passengers quickly turn around in their seats, their faces eager to see what we've got planned. Shawn's parents don't seem to be fazed by their son's involvement.

"Oh, goody! There's more!" one of the women says.

I look up at Patrick and I can tell from the look on his eyes that he is fulfilling yet another childhood dream: Playing an action star.

He holds his arms out to the side and his hands up, "There's a bomb on this bus!"

One of elderly women gasps, before being elbowed by her friend and laughing.

Patrick then looks down at me.

"What?" I whisper.

"You're Annie and you're driving."

I groan loudly. I honestly can't believe this is my life. Less than a week ago, I was a respected doctor. After this, I'm not sure my name and the word 'respect' will be allowed in the same sentence. I only have myself to blame. I made the list. I put stupid number 21 on there.

"We're skipping ahead I guess?" I ask flatly.

"Ask me if I'm a cop," he says, out of the side of my mouth.

"Pretend you're driving," Shawn says, motioning with his hands like he's steering.

I roll my eyes for the umpteenth time and bring my arms up, as I say in a monotone, "So, you're a cop, right?"

"That's right."

I state my lines without any emotion. I practically have the movie memorized by now.

"Well, I should probably tell you that I'm taking the bus because I had my driver's license revoked."

Shawn leans toward me and says, "More oomph! You need to feel the character!"

Who is this kid? Dillon? I offer him an icy glare and he bows his head, settling back into his seat.

"What for?" Patrick goes on.

I smile. "Speeding."

The passengers start laughing. I should be feeling like a complete and utter fool now, right? I mean, this isn't normal, everyday stuff. But they're not laughing at us. They're enjoying us. And I can't feel like a complete and utter fool if they like us. I look at Patrick. He's enjoying this way too much to feel foolish.

Patrick looks down at me. "It's a game. If he gets the money he wins, if the bus blows up, he wins."

Moving on I guess.

I meet his eyes. "What if you win?"

"Then tomorrow we'll play another game."

"But I'm not available to drive tomorrow...Busy."

They laugh again and then start clapping.

"Wonderful, just wonderful!" our original number one fan says, as she gives us a standing ovation and nearly falls over when the bus jerks.

Patrick and I sit down. I stare at Shawn. "This isn't working."

"You didn't feel like a fool?"

"Not a complete and utter one."

Patrick shrugs. "Me neither."

I scoff. "Please, you loved every second."

He smiles and nods, "It was pretty fun."

I sigh in frustration. This shouldn't be so hard. We've done such a good job making complete and utter fools of ourselves up until this point. Now, when we want to, nothing. Figures. It's not like anything else has gone right for us while trying to complete this list.

Just then, we pull into a rest stop. Shawn turns to us, grinning.

"I've got it. My friends and I have a whole list of stupid things to do at fast food restaurants. We do them every weekend. This will work."

Again, I'm not sure if it's wise listening to a kid who spends his free time composing lists of stupid things to do at fast food restaurants.

---

Shawn leans in close to us as we stand in the McDonald's at the rest stop. "Okay, this is what you do. You walk up to the counter, look up at the menu for at least three full minutes, squinting, then you point and order something that's not on the menu. Make it something really specific and different, nothing a fast food restaurant would have. I guarantee you the cashier will turn around and look at the menu to check it. Trust me, it's great."

Patrick nods, while I simply shake my head.

He goes on, "Then, when you go to pay, pay in pennies."

"We don't have many pennies," I point out.

Shawn reaches into his backpack and pulls out a freezer size Ziploc bag full of pennies.

"Why on earth are you carrying all of those pennies with you?"

He arches his eyebrows. "I'm on a cross country trip with my parents on a Greyhound bus. I've been doing this penny thing at every fast food restaurant we stop at. It's the only thing that stops me from throwing myself under that bus."

Patrick laughs and I can't help but chuckle.

"Come on, it will be great. It drives the cashiers crazy. And you will feel like total fools. I promise."

He then gives us a shove in the direction of the counter. Patrick and I walk up slowly.

"Hi, may I take your order?" a teenage girl with pimples all over face and pigtails asks flatly, as she plasters on a smile.

"In a sec," Patrick says.

Then we both squint up at the menu, our heads scanning it back and forth. I count in my head. After one minute, the cashier begins to tap her foot impatiently. After two minutes, she begins to sigh loudly. After three minutes, she lets out a groan.

"Are you ready yet?"

Patrick offers her a charming grin. "Yes, thank you for your patience." He then squints up at the menu again and points at the right side, "I'd like one chicken marsala dinner, hold the mushrooms. With that, I'd like a side of your fettucine carbonara, hold the peas. Oh and to drink I would like a...Strawberry...Frizzle."

He then looks back at her and grins. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing, as her mouth hangs open and she turns her head to look at the menu, as if in slow motion. Her gaze follows where Patrick is pointing.

She then turns back to face him. "Uh, we don't have that."

"Oh, you're all out?"

"No, I mean that's not on our menu."

"You mean because I don't want mushrooms or peas?"

"No, I mean because we don't have stuff like that here."

"So you don't do substitutions? What about having it my way?"

"That's Burger King, sir."

Patrick sighs. "Well, I have a good mind to speak to your manager, but you're lucky that I am exhausted by this trip. I'll find something else. He turns to me, "Why don't you order, honey?"

I nod and squint and point just like him, "I'd like the Lobster Value Meal with a side of Sweet Potato Fried Chips and the Fiesta Corn. To drink...a glass of white Zinfandel."

I smile back at the cashier. Again, her mouth hangs open and she slowly turns her head to follow where I am pointing.

Then she looks back at me. "That's not on the menu."

"Sure, it is. Number 3 on the Value Meal Menu. It's right there," I say, pointing.

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

"Are you calling me a liar? What happened to the customer's always right?"

She groans and stomps her foot. "But we don't have any Lobster. This is McDonald's."

I finally sigh. "Fine, what do you have then?"

She rolls her eyes and points at the menu.

"I guess I'll have one of those cheeseburger things, a small fry, medium Sprite. Honey?" I say, looking up at Patrick.

"A Big Mac. It sounds intriguing. Large fry. Large Coke."

The girl lets out a breath, as she punches in our order. I sigh sadly though. This isn't working so far though. I'm just having fun. I look over at Shawn and he gives me a thumbs up. I realize this is what I should have been doing when I was a teenager. Stupid, harmless, fun stuff. I guess it's never too late.

The cashier tells us the total and Patrick reaches down to pick up the bag of pennies. He makes a huge production of lifting it up, complete with panting and grimacing, then plops it down on the counter with a loud thud. The girl's eyes widen and her mouth drops open so wide I could stick a Big Mac in it.

"Just a minute," he says, as he unzips the bag and begins counting out pennies. I help by forming stacks of ten.

I glance over at Shawn who's nearly falling over with laughter.

"41, 42, 43, 44, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50..."

She continues to stare at us in shock. I half-expect her to start drooling. The longer we stand there though, the less fun this feels and the closer I get to feeling foolish. Patrick looks like he's experiencing the same thing. I can tell from his reddening face.

Just then, our biggest fan comes up. She looks at us and laughs. "Oh, you must be doing some improv!" She then looks at the cashier. "They're Traveling Entertainers!"

The cashier let's out a huge breath and starts laughing. "Oh, thank God! I was beginning to think I was on Candid Camera!" Her laugh subsides quickly though and she holds her hand out, "Okay, now quit the games and pay up."

Patrick and I throw a glare at our number one fan. He then reaches into his wallet and pulls out some bills. He hands them to the cashier and we take our food to our seats.

Shawn sits down next to us. "That was totally awesome!"

I dip my fry in ketchup dejectedly. "I didn't feel like a fool. It was fun annoying her."

Patrick smiles at me, "She loves annoying people. It's a favorite past time of hers."

I smack his arm. He shrugs. "She's right. It was fun. It may have worked if that lady didn't interrupt us."

Shawn puts his head in his palm. "Huh, you guys are tough. All right, I've got one more thing. Stand by the trash and don't let anyone throw anything out until they pay the fee. Say it's McDonald's new policy."

Patrick and I sigh, but nod tiredly. We finish our food and then take up spots at garbages across the restaurant from each other. I watch as a boy about ten walks up to Patrick. Patrick speaks to him and then holds his hand out. The boy then proceeds to kick him in the shin.

Ouch! That's gotta hurt.

While Patrick is bending over to rub at his leg, the boy reaches over him and throws his trash away.

Patrick looks at me and mouths, "I'm out", and goes to sit down.

I sigh. Quitter.

A minute later, an old woman comes up to me. Thankfully, she's not from our bus.

"Excuse me, dear. I would like to throw my trash away, please."

"Yes, ma'am. Just pay the fee. $1.50," I say, as I hold my hand out.

She looks at me for a moment, then opens up her purse. "Okay, that seems reasonable." She pulls two dollar bills out of her wallet. "Here you go, dear. Keep the change as your tip."

I stand there wide-eyed, as she places the money in my hand. I do manage to move aside. I look over at Patrick and Shawn who are smiling. I let out a guttural groan and then walk over to them, sinking down into my seat.

Patrick looks at me. "Hey, get back over there and make us some more money. We're running low."

I scowl at him. "Funny. How's the leg, quitter?"

"I gave it my best try."

I drop my head onto the table. "I give up."

Shawn pats my arm comfortingly.

---

Patrick and I spend the rest of the trip sleeping. Turns out, actually trying to make complete and utter fools of ourselves is very tiring. We sleep for hours and hours. Shawn and our fans get off in New York City. We thank Shawn for his help and wish him luck on the rest of his journey.

We continue onto Port Charles.

I glance at Patrick. "I never asked you. What did you say when you called Alan and told him we were using a few of our vacation days after the conference? I know it wasn't the truth."

"I told him we got to talking with some of the presenters and wanted to spend a few days picking their brains and getting their input on some possible experimental procedures and drug protocols we're thinking of developing."

"And he bought that?"

"It sounds a lot more plausible than we were robbed by Ken and Barbie, don't ya think?" he asks with a grin.

I smile and shrug. "And when are we expected back at work?"

Patrick looks at his watch. "Oh, two hours."

"Two hours? We won't even have time to go unpack or shower or change," I say in a voice bordering in a whine.

"Throw some scrubs on and shower in the locker room when you get a chance." He pauses and then adds. "And remember, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

I nod. "And Cawker City."

He smiles and puts his arm around my shoulders. "So, about number 21?"

"We'll cross it off eventually, but I'm done trying for now."

He kisses my forehead. "Who would have thought it would be so hard making complete and utter fools of ourselves? We seemed to be naturals at it."

"Speak for yourself," I say with a grin.

---

Two hours later, Patrick and I drag ourselves into the nurses' station. We changed into scrubs and our labcoats, but that's all we had time to do. Patrick still looks amazingly fresh and rested. I, on the other hand, look like I just got back from a vacation in hell. Which isn't altogether untrue.

Epiphany comes walking to us. "Well, well, well. Look who's back."

"Epiphany, it's good to see you," I say with a smile and a nod."

"Miss me?" Patrick asks with a grin.

She cocks her head. "Miss you? The absence of your oversize ego in this nurses' station made moving around so much easier."

"I know that's just your way of saying yes. You can't find the words. I know, sometimes I can't find them either," he replies, his grin widening, as he puts his arm around her shoulders.

Epiphany smiles and shakes her head. "Oh, I nearly forgot," she says. She then leans down and pulls a bag out from beneath the counter. "The hotel you were staying at overnighted your wallets. Apparently, they found them in the dumpster behind the hotel, nothing in them but your hospital I.D.s."

Patrick and I exchange a look. I swallow. "Oh, uh, yeah, someone broke into our hotel room and stole Patrick's wallet and my purse...while we were out of the room."

"Oh really."

"Yup, that's what happened," Patrick says, nodding.

"Huh. I guess they lied to me then. Because I called the hotel to make sure you were all right and they said you checked out a few days ago after having your keycards replaced because they were stolen. They also said several other guests reported that two people named Ken and Barbie posed as a couple that was getting married, engaged them in conversation, and then stole all of their personal belongings. So, I put two and two together. But if you guys are telling me that someone stole things out of your hotel room while you were out, then the hotel staff must have lied to me because I know you two wouldn't lie to me."

Patrick and I drop our heads.

"Put your hands up!" a familiar male voice comes from behind us.

We raise our head just in time to see Epiphany bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"Give us everything you have!" a familiar female voice says.

Patrick and I squeeze our eyes closed and then slowly turn around. We open our eyes up to find Dillon with a brown wig, plaid shirt, khaki pants and sweater over his shoulders. Lulu is wearing a long platinum blond wig and a short, white skirt, pink blouse and matching sweater over her shoulders.

They're pointing pink water guns at us.

"Come on, give it up. Barbie and I need to renovate our Dream House," Dillon says.

"That's right. And my Barbie-mobile could use a tune-up," Lulu adds.

I sigh. "Very funny, guys."

Patrick throws a look over his shoulder at Epiphany. "I guess Epiphany told you."

"Epiphany told everyone," Dillon says with a grin.

We both groan. I rub at my face. "Okay, joke's over. You got us. You can put the guns down now."

Lulu shakes her head. "Not until we get what we came for."

"You mean our dignity? Sorry, but you're a little late. We lost what remained of it about five days ago," Patrick replies.

Dillon shakes his head, trying his best not to smile. "No, your best Captain and Tennille impression."

Our mouths drop open. How did he know?

Dillon allows his smile to cross his lips. "Shawn picked up one of your bags by accident. Inside, it had your work number. He called here, told Epiphany who he was, and just happened to mention what happened on the bus."

Lulu and Dillon then laugh and walk off.

Patrick's eyes follow them. He speaks without looking at me.

"Cross it off."

"Way ahead of you," I say, smiling and nodding, as I'm already digging into my labcoat pocket.

---

**The List: To Do # 11 - Scuba Dive the Great Barrier Reef**

Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you thought. -Steph


	12. To Do 11: Scuba Dive Great Barrier Reef

**Title**: The List  
**Author**: Steph  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Pairing**: Robin/Patrick  
**Category**: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
**POV**: Robin  
**Disclaimer**: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers**: Nope.  
**Summary**: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

**Note**: So, I've been loving the Scorpios on the show, so I figured it was about time Robin and Patrick spent some time with them in this fic, too, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do it. Obviously, in this fic, Robin and Patrick got together before Anna came back so I had to change things a bit. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought! -Steph

**--- The List: To Do # 11 - Scuba Dive the Great Barrier Reef ---**

My father leans on the counter, giving me what he believes to be a charming smile. I can't believe that ever worked on women...on my mother! Of course, my future child will probably think the same thing about Patrick decades from now.

"Come on, Robin. How can you pass up a nice family vacation?"

Family vacation? Who is he now? Chevy Chase?

"Um, we just had a family vacation, like a year ago, Dad. Remember the Markham Islands?"

He raises an eyebrow. "I was on the run from bounty hunters and your mother was trying to turn me in for money. Now call me crazy, but that doesn't exactly scream 'family' or 'vacation'."

My mother came to visit me about a year ago, right after Patrick and I officially became a couple, and she never left. My parents haven't rekindled their romance, but they always seem to be just on the brink. That is, when they're not trying to kill each other. I'm not sure they'll ever be truly over.

So, my father, in his unending quest to get closer to me and my mother, has now suggested a 'family vacation' to his native Australia. He made reservations at a resort on Dunk Island, which is an island in the Great Barrier Reef.

And I am trying desperately to get out of it. I love my parents, but the mere thought of spending a 17 hour plane flight and 7 days with them gives me hives.

I shake my head and attempt to sound disappointed. "Sorry, Dad, but I don't have anymore vacation time. Maybe after the first of the year."

He smiles widely and wags his finger at me. "Now here's a benefit of living in the Q's mansion, besides having people cook and clean for you. You get to know other people who live there very well. And one of those people happens to be Alan Quartermaine."

I furrow my brow at him. "You asked Alan if I could have more time off for a family vacation?"

He tilts his head and purses his lips. "I didn't exactly ask."

He has that mischievous glint in his eyes, which is never a good sign.

"What did you do exactly?" I ask, my eyes narrowing at him.

"Let's just say I have a picture of Dr. Quartermaine that he would prefer stay under wraps. By the way, fuschia is a lovely color on him."

My hand flies up to cover my mouth. I'm not sure what shocks me more. The fact that my father just implied Alan's a cross-dresser or that he used this information to blackmail him into giving me vacation time.

I shake my head and lean forward, whispering harshly, "You did not blackmail my boss!"

"That's right. I never said that. Blackmail's an ugly, dirty word."

Just then, Patrick walks into the nurses' station. He glances at my father, before giving me a kiss on the cheek.

He then scans my face. "Is everything okay?"

I turn to him and then point my pen at my father. "No, everything is not okay. My father wants to go to Australia with me and my mother, so he blackmailed Alan into giving me more vacation time."

"Blackmailed him with what?" Patrick asks, leaning toward my father with interest.

Dad opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off by hitting Patrick's chest and saying, "That doesn't matter!"

I then grab Patrick's arm and pull him over to the other side of the nurses' station so my father can't hear us.

"I was counting on using the no vacation time thing as my excuse."

"So much for that."

"Patrick, I cannot go on vacation with my parents. They argue constantly. One of us won't make it back alive. And it will probably be me because I've heard an exploding head is fatal."

He smiles at me. "I don't see that you have a choice, Robin. You don't want to hurt their feelings." He pauses and then pats my back, "Have fun."

"Thanks, you've been a great help!"

"What do you want me to do? I'm just glad I don't have to go. Your father barely tolerates me and your mother pretends to like me."

"My mother likes you."

"I remind her of your father."

"She likes you in spite of that."

"She knows you love me so she puts on a good show."

I shrug, "Well, to be fair, she hasn't spent much time with you. She hasn't gotten to know you like I have."

He grins. "I don't want your mother to get to know me like you have. I think that would be inappropriate."

I laugh and hit his chest.

"Yoohoo," Dad says.

He's moved and is now standing behind us, waving. "I think I know what the problem is. You don't want to spend a week apart from each other, which is sweet, if a little sickening. Not a problem. As a spy, my job was to anticipate problems and I anticipated this one. Dr. Drake, don't worry. I spoke to Alan for you, too. You're practically family, after all."

I smile and look at Patrick, whose mouth has dropped open. I then pat his arm. "See, this is what family's all about. What's that they say? The family that blackmails together, stays together."

Dad claps his hands together. "Okay, well, we leave on Saturday, so I will see you then."

He then walks off.

Patrick puts his hands on his hips. "Help me see the good in this."

I smile and loop my arms through his and around his chest. "We don't have to spend a week apart?"

"We get to spend it with your parents," he states flatly.

"Quality family time."

"There's no chance of this not turning into a National Lampoon's vacation movie, is there?"

"Nope, not at all." I pause and then add, "But here's a little silver lining. We can do number seven. We'll be in the Great Barrier Reef."

Patrick raises an eyebrow. "Scuba dive the Great Barrier Reef." He sighs and shakes his head, "Great. Me with your mom, your dad and sharks. Guess which one of those three scares me the least."

I laugh and shake my head.

---

"No, Robert, I gave you the tickets. Remember, we dropped our bags off at curbside check-in and I handed them to you," Mom says.

The ticket agent smiles at me patiently. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temples. This is how the entire ride to the airport went. Constant bickering. They bickered about which route to take, when to change lanes, the air conditioning and the radio. This is what happens when two control freaks try to co-exist.

Dad shakes his head. "Anna, if I had the tickets, I wouldn't have wasted my breath asking you for them."

Patrick lets out a sigh and looks at them. "So, let me see if I'm following this. Neither of you have the tickets?"

They throw him a glare and he quickly bows his head.

My mother finally lets out a groan and turns to the ticket agent. "Can't you just look on the computer and check us in without the tickets? We had four First Class tickets."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, without tickets there's nothing I can do."

My mother scowls at my father and then turns back to the ticket agent. "Well, my irresponsible, no-good ex-husband somehow managed to lose them from the curb to here, so could you see if you have four other seats available on the flight? We'll have to re-purchase."

The ticket agent types some information in and then nods. "I do."

"Oh good," Mom says, smiling widely.

"But they are Coach."

Her smile quickly fades. "Coach?" She says the word as if it's an expletive.

I can't remember the last time either of my parents flew Coach. They've always said if they're going to travel the world, they might as well do it in style.

Mom finally sighs. "Oh, all right, I guess we'll take them." She then turns to my father. "This is all your fault. You were so busy looking at that blonde bimbo checking us in at the curb that you couldn't be bothered to put the tickets some place safe."

"Putting them some place safe would have required me to have them in my possession at some point, which I did not."

Mom grits her teeth. "You're impossible!"

She then stalks off, with my father following closely behind.

I look at Patrick. "Nothing says family vacation like wanting to kill one another before you even leave the airport."

He puts his arm around my shoulders and grins, "That's beautiful. You should get that stitched on a pillow."

---

We have the seats in the center of the plane. Patrick and I smartly decided to separate my parents. So my mother is sitting to the right of me, I'm sitting next to Patrick, and my father is sitting to his left. It's all very cozy.

Apparently, two seats separating them isn't enough though. My mother leans over me.

"Robert, do you have my carry-on?"

Dad leans over Patrick. "Now why would I have your carry-on?"

"Because I asked you to hold it while they were padding me down."

My father grins evilly. "Yes, they didn't trust you, did they?"

"It was a random check."

"You look suspicious. Never good for a spy. I think you may have lost your touch, my dear."

She clenches her teeth. "Do you or do you not have it?"

He reaches beneath his chair and holds up the small black bag, grinning at her.

Her eyes narrow. "Why didn't you just say yes?"

His grin only widens. "Now what would be the fun in that?"

He then hands it to Patrick, who hands it to me. I hand it to my mother.

Patrick looks over at me. "Remember when we took my seven cousins to Six Flags?"

I nod.

"And remember how you got thrown up on, we were nearly eaten by a lion and they ended up in Amusement Park Jail?"

"Uh huh."

He smiles. "I'm really missing that right about now."

I laugh and then put my head on his shoulder.

---

My father leans toward Patrick and whispers. He thinks I can't hear him but he seriously needs to brush up on his whispering skills.

"So, Dr. Drake, you've been with my daughter for quite some time."

Patrick looks at him. "Coming up on a year very, very soon. By the way, I think it's time you called me Patrick."

It's then that I realize August 4th is our one year anniversary. That's tomorrow. I frown, realizing we'll be spending our anniversary with my parents. Thank God we'll have separate rooms.

My father grins. "If I call you Patrick, you might get it into your pretty little head that you can call me Robert or, God forbid, Dad."

Patrick glances at me. "I'll continue to call you Mr. Scorpio."

My father waves a hand. "No matter. Back to the subject at hand. You've been living together for a while now, too."

"Seven months."

"I guess my question is when do you plan on making an honest woman out of my daughter?"

I lean forward and shoot my father a glare. "Dad!"

He smiles. "Oh, hello, sweetheart. I didn't think you could hear me."

"Will you leave Patrick alone, please?"

"Robin, I'm your father. I think asking the man you've been with for a year now when he plans on marrying you is a perfectly acceptable question."

Mom leans forward. "A year? Has it really been that long?"

Patrick and I look at each other and smile. It's been the best year of my life and I'm pretty sure he feels the same way.

I nod. "Yes, it has. And Patrick and I are just fine with the way things are. We're very happy."

My mother smiles and touches my cheek. "Yes, darling, I can see that. And making it official won't change that."

I sigh. I want to marry Patrick and he's made it clear he wants to marry me. But we're going to wait until the time is right. I'll admit, there's a tiny part of me that fears that marriage will change things between us. We're so happy right now. Sometimes I look at what became of my parents and I worry that the same thing could happen to us. I mean, there were many things that happened that contributed to my parents inability to make it work, none of which Patrick and I will probably ever have to deal with. But my parents still love each other. They even admitted as much. And when I was young and would look at them, I could see how in love they were. I didn't think there was anything that could pull them apart. But as an adult who's loved and lost before I know that sometimes love is not enough. I want to believe that Patrick and I can weather any storm together. I want to believe that we are meant to spend the rest of our lives together. And, on most days, I do. But then there are others when I look at my parents and I worry.

I blink back sudden tears and Patrick looks at me in concern. "Hey, are you all right?"

I nod and manage a weak smile. "Of course, I'm fine." I swallow and then look back and forth between my parents. "I love you for wanting me to be happy. All you need to know is that I am."

---

"Robert!" Mom says, turning to face my father, as the hotel clerk looks at the computer monitor.

"What? It's not my fault, Anna. I called and made the reservations weeks ago. Three rooms."

"Did you call to confirm before we left?"

My father tilts his head and scrunches his brow. "I may have forgotten to call to confirm."

My mother grits her teeth. "Honestly, I don't know how you've kept yourself alive this long. Your brain is a sieve. It's turned to mush."

He groans. "Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, Anna. We still have one room."

Mom puts her hands on her hips. "One room for four people. There should have been three rooms. One for me, one for you and one for Robin and Patrick."

Dad leans on the counter and smiles at the hotel clerk. "Could you please see if you have two more rooms available?"

"I already have, sir. We are booked solid."

Patrick and I exchange a look. This can't be happening. We have to share one room with my parents? This isn't a vacation. This is a nightmare.

My father puts his arm around my shoulders and my mother's. "Come on, it'll be cozy."

"It'll be wretched," my mother says with a grimace and shrugs my father's arm off of her shoulder.

Patrick leans down and whispers in my ear, "This is probably going to put a cramp in our sex life."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing and elbow him in the stomach.

---

We head to our room and my father opens the door. All four of us enter. The room is average in size with a Queen bed in the middle, a bureau opposite it and a table with two chairs by the window. Sliding doors open to a small balcony that overlooks the water.

Patrick eyes the bed. "There's only one bed."

"Observant man. He's a keeper," Dad says to me, as he pats Patrick on the shoulder.

My mother shakes her head sharply. "This won't do. This simply won't do. I mean, where are we all supposed to sleep?"

My father waggles his eyebrows at my mother. "Well, you and I can take the bed, luv."

Her lips turn into a snarl and she kicks him in the shin. Patrick starts to laugh, before my father shoots him a glare while rubbing at this leg.

My mother sighs. "Well, this is all your fault, Robert, so it goes without saying that you'll be taking the floor. Or, better yet, the balcony. You know, outside with the other creatures."

"I paid for this room, Anna. I'm not sleeping on the balcony. The floor will suit me just fine, as I'm sure it will suit you. Give Robin and Patrick the bed."

Mom smiles and then touches her back. "I have a bad back, so I'll need the bed."

My father scoffs. "Bad back? Since when?"

"Since I roundhouse kicked you in the Markham Islands."

Dad crosses his arms over his chest. "Unbelievable. You are so desperate for the comforts of home you'll actually pretend that your body can no longer take the rigors of being a spy."

"My body is just fine, thank you. My back just acts up sometimes."

Patrick lets out a breath and looks at my mother. "How about you and Robin take the bed? Mr. Scorpio and I will take the floor."

I frown. I'd give up the bed to spend my nights sleeping on a hard floor in Patrick's arms.

Mom smiles. "Such a gentleman." She then throws Dad a glare. "You could learn a thing or two from this young man, Robert."

I smile up at Patrick. See, Mom does like him. He can be a gentleman when he wants to be. It's usually when he lets me go first because something scary or dangerous is about to happen, but I'll take what I can get.

---

We're all feeling more than a little grubby from the seventeen hour plane flight, so we decide to take turns using the shower before we head downstairs for dinner. It takes over two hours, but we are all finally ready to go down to dinner.

The hotel has a beautiful restaurant overlooking the water. We ask to dine on the large covered deck. In the center is a dance floor.

We order drinks and our meals. Patrick then stands and extends his hand to me, as he offers me a dimpled smile. "Would you like to dance?"

I return the smile and place my hand in his. He leads me to the dance floor. I look up into his eyes, as I wrap my arms around his neck and he snakes his around my waist.

"Our anniversary's tomorrow," I say, my eyes focused on his. "I can't believe it's been a year."

He brings his lips down to mine and offers me a soft kiss. He then pulls back and smiles. "Best year of my life."

I smile gently. "Mine, too." I then shake my head. "I'm sorry we won't get to celebrate it the way we'd both hoped. I mean, we certainly won't get to celebrate like we did in Vegas."

He laughs. "No, we won't." His laugh slowly subsides and he kisses my forehead. "As long as we're together, that's all that really matters." His eyes then begin to twinkle, as he looks down at me. "I have a confession, you know."

My eyebrows arch. "Oh, are you sure I want to hear this?"

He smiles and nods, "I knew your father was planning this vacation. I also knew it fell during our anniversary. I couldn't stand the thought of spending that away from you, or any time for that matter, so I asked him to 'speak' to Alan on my behalf, too."

I shake my head, a smile spreading across my lips. "You mean you actually arranged it so you could come on a vacation with my parents? Are you crazy?"

His hand slips from my waist and he caresses my cheek, "About you, yes."

I chuckle. "You must be if you're willing to endure such torture."

He grins. "I think your father's right. I'm a keeper."

I bring my lips close to his and whisper, "Oh, I didn't need my father to tell me that. I realized that a long time ago." My lips then meet his again.

When I pull back, I catch sight of my father standing over my mother extending his hand. I tap Patrick's shoulder and nod in their direction.

"Look."

He turns just in time to see my mother, who initially resisted, place her hand in my father's. He then leads them to the dance floor.

I watch as my parents dance in each other's arms. My mother puts her head on my father's shoulder and he leans his cheek against her hair. I feel sudden tears begin to sting my eyes.

"Hey, are you okay?" Patrick asks me.

I smile sheepishly and look up at him, as I blink back tears. "Yeah, I just watch them together sometimes and I'm a kid again, wondering why they couldn't make it work. They obviously still love each other. They told me so in the Markham Islands. They just...they have such passion. And, boy, can they bicker!" I say with a laugh. I lower my eyes to the floor. "They remind me of us sometimes. The way we argue. But we're always able to make-up. We're always able to get back to what brought us together in the first place, how deeply we care for one another. They said that no matter how much they love each other, they just couldn't find a way to live together." I pause and take a deep breath. "I guess I just don't understand that."

I refrain from saying what I truly fear. That someday we'll get to a point where we can't find our way back to what brought us together in the first place either.

Patrick shakes his head. "I don't know much about your parents' history, Robin, but from what I've heard it seems like their love, their marriage, was never first in their lives. They let their jobs, their need for adventure and thrills, take priority. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that love isn't enough to sustain anything. You have to be willing to work at it. You have to compromise and make sacrifices. You have to be willing to do everything in your power to overcome obstacles together. You taught me that."

I smile and nod, as my parents dance their way over to us.

Dad smiles at Patrick. "Look at us, mate. We've got the two most beautiful women in the whole damn place in our arms. I'd say that makes us the two luckiest guys in the whole damn place."

Patrick glances down at me. "I'd have to agree."

Mom puts her nose in the air and makes a conscious effort to take a step back from Dad. "Your father can be very persistent. It's easier to just comply rather than waste the entire evening rebuffing him." She then adds softly, "And I do enjoy dancing."

Dad smiles at us. "Dancing with me, is what she meant to say."

Mom frowns at him. "Actually, I am perfectly capable of saying what I mean, Robert."

"I'm sure you are, luv, but you rarely do."

"You're an insufferable, arrogant pig. I mean that."

"No, you don't."

Mom grits her teeth. Uh oh. This is about to turn ugly.

"I honestly can't imagine why I let you talk me into this vacation. We're only on day one and I already want to strangle you."

Dad rolls his eyes. "You know, Anna, if you would just lighten up and let yourself have a good time, then maybe you wouldn't feel the need to threaten me with bodily harm."

"I highly doubt that," she snaps, as she pulls away from him and walks back to the table. My father sighs, shakes his head, and follows her.

I watch them go, my stomach turning into knots. I know Patrick is right. My parents never put their relationship first and that's what doomed them. But Patrick and I are doctors. We are busy, ambitious people. We are also head-strong and stubborn. What if someday we get to the point where we can't live with each other? What if we put work ahead of our relationship and don't compromise and make the sacrifices necessary? Everyone always goes into marriage with the best of intentions, but then life happens and sometimes things spiral out of control before anyone even realizes it. And, by the time they do, it's too late.

I'm thrown from my thoughts by Patrick's voice. "Robin?"

I shake my head and meet his eyes. "Yeah?"

His brow furrows at me. "I just said our salads arrived, so we should probably go back to the table.

I nod and then slip my hand into his as he leads us back to our table.

---

"Robin? Robin, are you still awake?" I hear Patrick whisper through the darkness.

I was on the brink of sleep, even though my mother's been kicking me for the last fifteen minutes.

I roll over and peek over the side of the bed. He looks up at me. "What's the matter?"

"Your father's putting the moves on me," he says through clenched teeth, jerking his thumb at my dad.

There isn't much space between the bed and the wall, but my father has managed to make the space seem even smaller. His head has found its way onto Patrick's pillow. His arm is flung over Patrick's waist and his leg is entangled with his.

I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

Patrick's eyes glow at me. "It's not funny!"

I remove my hand. "It's pretty funny."

"He keeps saying things and smiling."

"What is he saying?"

I'm not entirely sure I want to know.

Patrick rolls his eyes and sighs, saying flatly. "Yeah, baby, that feels good. Yeah, right there. You know what I like."

I bury my face in my pillow to stifle a laugh. I then chew on my bottom lip and look back down at Patrick. "Well, I guess you must be doing something right."

Patrick reaches up, pulls my pillow out from beneath me, and hits me over the head with it. I laugh, as I wrestle it from his grip.

"I don't think you're grasping how uncomfortable this is for me."

"He is in your personal space. You don't have much room."

"I don't mean that kind of uncomfortable. I mean the kind of uncomfortable that comes from your girlfriend's father nuzzling your neck!"

I chuckle. "Just push him off you."

"I tried that. He keeps coming back over here."

I try to manage a serious expression. "Have you told him no?"

His lips curl downward. "Very funny."

"No means no, Patrick. Be firm."

"Thanks for being of no help at all," he groans and then pushes my father away, all the way up against the wall.

---

Today, Patrick and I decided to number seven on the list. We asked my parents the night before if they were interested in scuba diving the Great Barrier Reef, but when we told them we had to leave at 7:00 a.m., they declined. They're both still dead to the world when we leave.

Patrick smiles at me as we walk down the hall. "You don't feel bad telling them we had to leave at 7:00 when we really don't have to be there until 11:00?"

I shake my head. "Are you kidding? We've spent over 24 straight hours together. I need a break from them and I need some time alone with you, especially on our anniversary."

He nods. "Well, I can't argue with that."

We spend our free time having a leisurely breakfast and taking a peaceful walk on the beach. We're able to just walk hand-in-hand in comfortable silence. There was a time when I didn't believe we would ever be able to just spend time together in silence. It seemed we always needed to fill the time with talking. But at some point, I'm not sure when, we grew so comfortable will one another that we could just be with each other. No words needed to pass between us.

Around 10:30 a.m., our cab arrives to take us to the scuba diving company. Once there, our instructor, Jerry, a pudgy guy in his late fifties with long, straggly gray hair, gives us our instructions. We rented the suits and tanks from the scuba diving company, so he hands out the necessary items and shows us how to use them. He demonstrates how to check that we're weighted correctly and then we practice buoyancy control by diving over sand. After that, we practice snorkeling techniques at the surface of the water.

Jerry then give us some guidelines to follow, "Do not touch anything with your fins and try to avoid stirring up sand. Look at the animals, but do not handle them. Some animals may be dangerous. Avoid blocking the path of any animals you may come in contact with. Please do not touch any coral. It is an offense to damage or remove coral. If you need to rest at any point, try to use the provided rest stations."

He then shows us some pictures of sea animals we may encounter and points out a few that could be dangerous.

There are eighteen other people in our group. We get onto the boat and Jerry drives us out into the water. Patrick puts his arm around my shoulders and smiles at me, as we enjoy the refreshing breeze and calm of the water.

"You know, this boat trip has to go better than our last," I say to him. "At least this time, the objective is to end up in the water."

He nods. "And there are no alligators."

I bob my head. "No, just sharks." I feel his body tense. I look over at him. "Are you afraid of sharks?"

He shakes his head. "I wouldn't say afraid. I'm not fond of them."

"Which means you're afraid."

"So what if I am? It's a perfectly rational fear, Robin. I mean, they kill people every year. People lose limbs and chunks of their bodies because of sharks. You have seen 'Jaws', right?"

I smile. "That's a movie, Patrick. We'll be fine. We probably won't even see any sharks."

He attempts a smile, but fails miserably.

It's not long before Jerry reaches the spot where we'll be diving. He gives us a few final instructions and tells us we have one hour to explore. We are each given waterproof watches and are told to set them for one hour.

We're then on our own. Patrick and I wade into the water. We smile at each other one last time, before putting the breathing apparatus in our mouths.

We swim away from the boat and then dive below. It's amazing how clear the water is. We encounter sea creature after sea creature. I use my underwater camera to take a picture of a green turtle and some Dugongs, which look like strange dolphins and are known as 'sea cows'. I tap Patrick and point at a school of Damselfish. He then taps me and gestures to  
a sea anemone and a cone snail, both of which Jerry told us to be careful of.

It's then that we encounter a huge coral reef. The colors are beautiful. It's all breathtaking and indescribable. I snap picture after picture.

As Patrick moves to get a closer look at the coral, his fin accidentally brushes up against it. My eyes widen as a small piece breaks off. Great. He just accidentally committed an offense. I shake my head at him and he shrugs, as he reaches down to pick it up and sticks in a little bag that's attached to our suits.

I mouth, "That's illegal," to him.

He holds his thumb and forefingers up, showing me how tiny it is, and shrugs his shoulders again. I swear if he gets us in trouble for stealing a two inch piece of coral, I'm going to kill him!

We swim and explore, enjoying the tranquility of this underwater heaven. Time just seems to fly by. I'm not even sure how long we've been under when I take a look at my watch. My eyes widen when I see it blinking 0:00. I hit the time button and look at the time it is now. We've been under for an hour and forty-five minutes! I grab Patrick's arm and gesture to my watch wildly. Realization dawns on him and he performs the same steps on his watch. He then looks at me and shakes his head.

We swim to the surface, nervous that Jerry's going to give us a tongue-lashing for making everyone wait. But when we reach the surface, the boat's nowhere in sight. Our heads swivel and we look as far as the eye can see, but there's nothing.

This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening! We were late, yes, but they wouldn't have just left us. They must have made a mistake. They must have thought they had everyone.

Patrick and I pull off our goggles and take the breathing apparatus out of our mouths.

Patrick turns to me. "Where the hell is the boat!"

"How should I know!"

"We couldn't have gone that far, Robin. They must have made a mistake and left without us. Maybe they did an incorrect head count."

I nod. "Well, they'll realize we're not there soon enough. I mean, we rented this equipment from the scuba diving company. They'll notice when it's not returned."

I take a deep breath. It's going to be fine. They'll be back in a few minutes I'm sure. Thirty at the most.

Patrick inhales and exhales deeply. "You're right. I'm sure they'll come back here and look for us soon."

We slip into silence, but it's not that comfortable silence we had on the beach. It's that cut-the-tension-with-a-knife, we-could-be-devoured-by-a -shark-out-here type of silence. And I can't help my mind from wandering.

"Have you seen the movie 'Open Water'?" I ask, as I turn to look at him.

He shakes his head. "No, never heard of it."

I nod. "Oh."

"Why? What is it about?" he asks, brow creasing.

I lower my eyes. "Nothing. Nevermind."

I hear him sigh. "Come on, Robin, just tell me. I'm guessing it has something to do with being in the water."

I bite at my bottom lip. "Well, this couple goes on a scuba diving expedition and gets left behind, just like us."

He nods. "Oh, okay. So what happened?"

"Uh, I really don't remember."

"What do you mean you don't remember?"

"I think I fell asleep."

"Robin, I can tell when you're lying. You happen to be terrible at it, which is interesting considering your parents did it for a living. Come on, tell me. It's not like we have anything else to do out here."

I let out an extended sigh. "Well, the boat never came for them and they...died."

His eyes widen and his mouth drops open. I'm not sure what he was expecting me to say. I guess he thought it would have a typical Hollywood fairytale ending and it would be comforting to him, given our current situation.

He finally swallows hard. "Uh, well, that was probably just Hollywood trying to be different. You know, do the unexpected. I mean, this is real-life. Someone will come for us."

"Actually, the movie was based on a true story," I mumble.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" he asks, leaning closer to me.

"It was based on a true story, okay! The real couple was probably eaten by sharks! And no one ever came for them because, among other things, they had an inaccurate head count and no one realized they were missing until it was too late!" I say, beginning to grow hysterical.

Patrick stares at me in shock. I know he expects me to be the level-headed and in-control one. That's how it was in the jungle and that's how it's been during many of our list adventures. But I can't help it. That movie freaked me out! And now I'm in my very own version of it!

He surprises me by pulling me into his arms and holding me close to him. "It'll be okay. We're going to be fine," he whispers in my ear.

I squeeze my eyes shut, allowing his soothing words and the feel of his arms around me to calm my nerves.

I finally pull back and nod. "Okay, I'm fine. You're right."

He brushes a stray piece of hair plastered to my cheek out of the way and replaces it with a kiss.

He then smiles at me. "If the scuba diving people don't realize we're missing, then your parents will soon enough. They'll start to worry when they don't hear anything from us."

I bob my head. "That's true."

We lapse into tense silence again. Thirty minutes go by during which we say nothing to each other. Patrick finally lets out a little yelp to break the silence.

I whip my head in his direction. "What's the matter!"

"Something is touching my leg," he says, his voice shaking.

"What is?"

He throws me a glare. "If I knew what, then I wouldn't have said 'something'!" He takes a deep breath. "It might be a shark."

I roll my eyes. "It's not a shark. We haven't even seen any sharks."

"So? I heard sharks can smell fear. It probably smelled our fear."

"You made that up."

"No, I saw it on one of those sharks shows."

"No, you didn't."

"Okay, do you want to continue debating this with me or could you maybe take a look underwater and see what it is?"

I sigh and put my goggles and breathing apparatus back in my mouth. I then lower myself underwater and take a look at his leg. I chuckle as I see his big, scary shark.

I come back to the top and hold it up to him. "Here's what was attacking you."

His face reddens at the sight of the piece of seaweed I'm holding up.

"It felt like a shark."

"Uh huh."

I drop the seaweed and then let out a groan. "I really don't want to just float here in silence. We need to do something to take our minds off of this. Any ideas?"

He grins. "Sure, but it's going to be kind of hard with the wetsuits."

I shake my head. "Wow, it really is true."

"What is?"

"You can turn any situation into something sexual."

His grin widens and he waggles his eyebrows. "It's a gift."

My lips are pulled into a smile. It actually feels good to hear him talk like that. It makes this, us, feel normal for a few seconds.

I shake my head. "Let's play a game. It'll keep our minds occupied."

"Okay, Monopoly," he deadpans.

"Come on, seriously."

"Well, our choices are sort of limited, Robin."

"How about rock/paper/scissors?"

Patrick nods. "All right. Best out of three?"

"Sounds good to me."

Patrick says, "1, 2, 3, shoot!"

I hold my hand out flat and he makes a fist.

In unison, we say, "Yes!"

Then our eyes widen and we look at each other. We both say, "I won that one!"

My eyes narrow and Patrick's jaw sets. I hold my hand out to him. "Paper beats rock."

His eyes grow large. "What? In whose universe? Rock beats paper."

"No, paper covers rock. Everyone knows that, Patrick."

"What kind of sense does that make? If I put a rock on top of paper, it couldn't move. It would, technically, be a paperweight."

"So?"

"So that means it's better than paper. Let's put it this way. If I wanted to kill someone, what would I choose as my weapon? A rock or paper?"

"You could smother someone with paper."

He looks at me as if I have two heads. "You must be dehydrated or something because I think you just said you could smother someone with paper."

"It's possible."

"Okay, the answer is a rock. I would use a rock to kill someone, therefore rock beats paper."

I shake my head. "I'm not playing with you anymore."

"Why? Because I won? Because I supported my case?"

"No, because you're an arrogant jackass. It's rock/paper/scissors, Patrick, not the SuperBowl."

We grow silent again and stay like that for over an hour. Patrick finally breaks it again, by screaming and holding up the forefinger of his left hand.

"What now?" I ask with a roll of my eyes.

"Something cut me!"

I look at his forefinger. There's a tiny cut on the tip. It's barely bleeding.

I shake my head. "What?"

He glares at me. "Will you please stop asking me that question? How am I supposed to know?"

I sigh loudly and put my goggles and breathing apparatus back on. I duck underwater just in time to see a Surgeonfish swim away. I smile, as I come back up.

"Did you see anything?"

"I saw the culprit."

"What was it?"

I grin. "A Surgeonfish."

Jerry showed us a picture of them. They're named because of a bone at their tail base that's shaped like a scalpel. I guess it's sharp enough to cut Patrick.

"Why are you smiling?" he asks, as he inspects his injury.

"It's just funny. A surgeon cut by a Surgeonfish. He used your own tool against you."

He scowls at me. "Yeah, that's really funny, Robin. Let's see how funny it is when my loss of blood attracts sharks and they tear the flesh from our bones."

I shake my head. "Oh, stop being so dramatic. You're barely bleeding. I've had paper cuts worse than that."

He turns away from me in a huff and we lapse into a long silence again. I finally break it.

"This is all your fault, you know."

His head snaps in my direction. "Excuse me?"

"You took that piece of coral."

He nods. "Right and that caused the boat to abandon us. Makes perfect sense, Robin. I hope you use that kind of logic when writing up those research articles."

"It's illegal, Patrick. Haven't you ever heard of karma?"

He runs a hand down his face. "Oh, you've got to be kidding. You honestly believe that we're being punished because I took a stupid piece of coral? Since when do you believe in karma anyway?"

"Since now."

He rolls his eyes and turns away from me. I find myself staring at the back of his head for what seems like hours.

I surprise myself when I finally speak, my voice emerging softly. "What if we end up like them?"

He turns his head to look at me, his brow furrowing. "What?"

I swallow hard. "What if we end up like my parents?"

His eyes scan my face for a long moment. "Is that what's been bothering you?"

I nod my head slowly. "I just keep thinking if it can happen to them, it can happen to us. I mean, look at us. We said we could get through anything together, overcome any obstacle, but here we are, and all we can do is argue. We should be comforting and supporting each other right now, not turning on one another." I take a deep breath. "I see so much of us in them. And look where they ended up."

Patrick lowers his eyes. "You mean you see so much of your father in me. Arrogant, cocky. And your mother is you. Right there to point those things out when something doesn't go right."

I shake my head. "That's not what I meant. They are two strong, independent, stubborn people who tried to make things work between them. And things did for a long time. At least, they worked in their own way. But something happened and I'm not sure it would have mattered if they had put their marriage first or made compromises and sacrifices. I'm not sure any amount of work would have saved their marriage. But I am sure that in the beginning they never would have guessed they'd end up where they are now. So how can we know for sure?"

Patrick smiles gently. "This is different. All of the sudden you're the one with doubts. We've switched roles."

I bring my hand up to his cheek. "I don't have doubts about how we feel about each other. I love you and I will always love you. I know you feel the same about me. It's just that I've seen too many happy, in love couples not make it. What makes us think we're any different?"

Patrick tilts his head. "Do you believe in fate?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I do."

"Since when?" I ask, surprised.

"Since I met you," he replies with a smile. "I think there are some people who are fated to be together. They are meant to be. And no matter what happens, no matter what may come between them, they will end up together. Robin, who would have thought we ever would have gotten together in the first place? The arrogant playboy and the grounded practical one. At first glance, we seem like a disaster. Normally, you wouldn't have put up with someone who behaved like I did and I wouldn't have bothered chasing a woman like you. So why did we? Because the moment we met there was something inside of us that said take a closer look. And when we did, we couldn't look away. Robin, as corny as it may sound, we were fated to be together. I believe that. That's what makes us different. That sets us apart."

I smile and bring my thumb up to caress his dimple, his words bringing me comfort, "You've given this a lot of thought."

He nods and smiles. "Well, we've been stuck in this water for three hours. I've had some time." He moves closer to me and I feel his arms wrap around my waist underwater. "I've known that for a long time."

He offers me a kiss on the lips, then leans his forehead on mine. "Happy anniversary, by the way."

I smile bitterly and pull back to look at him. "Some way to spend our anniversary, huh?"

He grins and gestures to the open water. "Well, you wanted alone time."

"Careful what you wish for, I guess." I pause and add, "But at least we're together." I then meet his eyes, as mine begin to sting with tears. "I love you. No matter what happens, always remember that."

He nods and cups my face. "I could never forget. I love you, too."

He then brings his lips to mine, as tears begin to stream down my face. I wonder if this is the last kiss we'll ever share. The sun will be setting soon and the darkness will only increase our fear. And what if no one ever comes?

I pull back and meet his eyes again when I suddenly hear something.

"Do you hear that?" I ask Patrick.

It sounds like a distant roar or buzz.

He nods. "Yeah, I hear it."

I look up at the sky, my head swiveling. My eyes widen at what I find. In the distance, there's a helicopter.

We're saved! We're not going to be eaten by sharks!

"Patrick, look!"

Patrick and I begin to wave our arms frantically as the helicopter nears. Soon, it's hovering above our heads. They lower down a rope ladder and Patrick helps me grab onto it. I climb up, smiling as I'm greeted by my mother and father. Mom pulls me into her arms.

"Sweetheart, thank God you're okay."

Patrick follows behind me a moment later. Dad gives him a pat on the back. "Good to see you in one piece, son."

Patrick and I settle into our seats. I find his hand and entwine our fingers, as we exchange a relieved smile.

"How did you find us?" I ask.

My mother gestures to my father. "Well, it was starting to get late and we figured we should have heard from you by then."

Dad continues, "So I called the scuba diving company and inquired about your expedition. They said that the group you were in had returned hours ago. Some probing revealed there was an inaccurate head count and a new employee failed to report that not all of the rented equipment was returned."

Mom looks at Dad admiringly. "He was like a bulldog. He was not going to leave there until they could tell him what happened to his little girl."

Dad smiles at her. "Well, your mother went into protective mother bear mode. She threatened to sue them unless they formed a search party."

I look at them for a long moment, realizing that they can still come together and work with one another to overcome obstacles when it matters most.

I smile. "Thank you both. Who knows if we would have ever made it out of there without you."

"Yes, thank you," Patrick says.

Dad shrugs. "Well, I couldn't let you two ruin our vacation on the very first day, now could I?"

My mother smacks his chest, as Patrick and I laugh.

---  
**Up Next: To Do # 12 - Swim with the Dolphins.**


	13. To Do 12: Swim with the Dolphins

Title: The List  
Author: Steph  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: Robin/Patrick  
Category: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
POV: Robin  
Disclaimer: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
Spoilers: Nope.  
Summary: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

Note: Sorry for the wait. I've been busy with a move and work. This was written and loaded on here, I just forgot to post it. Anyway, the beginning of this part is a bit angsty. A while back, one of my readers was so kind as to remind me that Stone made a list, too. I enjoyed Robin and Stone, but I didn't remember this for some reason and even after reading the transcript of the scene it didn't really ring a bell. (My memory sucks if I'm not obsessed with a couple!) I am so grateful she let me know, because it really brings a depth to this story that it wouldn't have otherwise. I waited to address it in this part because Stone also had 'Swim with the dolphins' on his list, so I was able to really make it something that drives this part. Also, I've inserted parts of the transcripts of the scene when he makes the list, so the stuff in italics is GH's, not mine. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought! -Steph

--- The List: To Do # 12 - Swim with the Dolphins ---

The warm night's breeze caresses my bare shoulders, as I stand on the balcony and stare down at the list in my hand. I can hardly believe it's been a year since we started it. In one year with Patrick, I've completed eleven items. In over ten years prior, I only managed to complete three. Then a fourth when I fell in love with him.

He's made this possible. This list probably would have remained at three had I not met him.

I glance down the list, my eyes stopping on number 6: Swim with the dolphins. Patrick surprised me tonight and told me he had arranged for the two of us to swim with the dolphins the day after tomorrow.

I stare at the item, my mind suddenly flooded with memories of the past. I've haven't really thought about this since the list reentered my mind...back when Mrs. Flanders talked about how she'd only had one thing on her list. Later, when I brought up the list to Patrick, I still pushed down the memories. I guess it was just easier than facing them, easier than remembering the painful events that really led to making the list I hold in my hand. But I can't push them down any longer.

When I made this list, it wasn't just about having a plan after I was diagnosed with HIV. It was about honoring Stone's memory. You see, he made a list first after he was diagnosed. And I helped him.

"You know, last night I woke up with like a dozen things that I wanted to do, and this morning I couldn't remember half of them."

"Well, then we'll make a list."

I smile, as I remember how he had never made a list before, at least not one he ever finished. The smile fades as I realize he died still having never finished one. After he died, I realized the best way to honor him would be to make a list of my own and try to complete it. He put swim with the dolphins on his list. I guess it was something we figured we'd do together, but we never got the chance.

"Oh, dolphin is with a 'ph' not an 'f.' You want to swim with dolphins?"  
"Yeah. Don't you think that would be great?"

"Yeah, I do. It's just, well, you can't swim and every time I try to teach you, you just procrastinate."

"Not anymore. That's my new philosophy. Don't put off until tomorrow, cause what if tomorrow never comes."

And tomorrow hadn't in so many ways. I wipe at a tear that slips down my cheek. There were so many things on that list that he, we, never got to do. After he died and I made my list, I fully intended to live with that same philosophy. I intended to complete everything on the list, to make each moment count. But knowing I would be facing each one alone became too much to bear.

And then I did what I had never intended. I stopped really living. I started again, on some level at least, with Jason, but after him I shutdown again. After I moved to Paris, I didn't treat each day as if it were a gift, each moment as if it were precious. Instead, I buried the pain of losing not one, but two loves. I hid in my work and I endured lonely night after lonely night.

I guess when you make an unconscious decision to close your heart off, you can't really keep living. Not truly. And that's what I had done. It was during those lonely nights when I would remember Stone and I would think of how disappointed he would be in the woman I had become. He never wanted that life for me. He wanted me to be happy.

I hear his words carry on the breeze.

"I don't want to leave you."

"I don't want to leave you either. I'd feel that way if we were eighty. But I really think that we should concentrate on making the time we have left count for something."

"You do make it count. It's just that every time I think that I have this thing wired, something else hits me."

"Like?"

"Like...Like we are never going to have a baby. I mean, I never thought about being a father before, but now I don't have a choice. And you will, with somebody else."

"Stone, I can't even think about that right now."

"No, but you should. I want you to be happy. I want you to be happy, I just wish that it was ours, and I want you to know that."

"I know."

My tears cascade down my face and fall to the ground, but I pay them no attention. When I thought of Stone during those lonely nights, I usually tried to remember the happy moments we shared. I never lingered too long on the 'what ifs'. They got me nowhere. But they were always there. I would wonder where we would be, what would have happened, if he had lived. We could have had a child together. Having a child, being a mother...that thought at such a young age was hard to fathom.

It's not now though. It's what I want and it's possible. There was a time when I didn't think it was. There was a time when I didn't think even a minimal risk to a child was worth it. There was a time when I thought I would never consider it without a man I fell helplessly and unconditionally in love with. A man who made me happy, just as Stone wanted me to be. I didn't think that man existed and I wasn't about to open myself up to heartache again in the unlikely event that he did.

Then Patrick walked into my life.

And, like a storm, I couldn't ignore him. Like a magnet to steel, I couldn't resist him no matter how hard I tried. He made things possible again. He opened up parts of me that I thought had died long ago. He gave me my life back.

I hear his footsteps behind me and, a moment later, I feel his arms slip around my waist. I smile at his touch, as the salt of my tears hits my lips.

He kisses the back of my neck, then moves his lips to my ear and whispers, "Can't sleep?"

I try to bring my hand up to my face to subtly dry my cheeks, but he must realize something is wrong because he gently grabs my wrist and spins me around. His eyes sweep over my face, his brow creasing in concern. He brings his hand up to caress my cheek, as his thumb gently wipes away a tear.

"Robin, what's the matter? Why are you crying?"

I move my eyes to the list I hold in my hand. His gaze follows mine.

"The list?" he asks.

I nod and say softly, "Swim with the dolphins."

He shakes his head. "I don't understand."

I take a deep breath and move my eyes to the ground. "I never told you this when we discussed the list that first time. It was something I had a hard time really thinking about at all, even on my own. I didn't just make the list after being diagnosed with HIV so that I would feel like I had a plan. I made it because of Stone." He listens intently, as I raise my eyes up to his. "Stone made a list after he was diagnosed. We actually made it together. Most of the things he never got to do. We never got to do. He put swim with the dolphins on the list."

Patrick sucks in a breath of air. He reaches his hand up and brushes my bangs aside, then nods. "So I guess finally reaching number six on the list forced you to face where the list came from in the first place. I'm sure that must be very hard for you."

I bob my head. "I made it to honor him and I put that on there for him, so that one of us would complete it. And I thought the best way to honor his memory was to live my life like everyday could be the last. That was his philosophy." I lower my head, as I shake it. "But I didn't do that. I didn't do that for a long time. I wasted a lot of time. A wasted a lot of precious moments."

Patrick brings his thumb and forefinger to my chin and raises my head so that I'll meet his eyes. "You're not doing that anymore."

I smile gently. "No, I'm not. And it's all because of you."

He tilts his head. "If you really wanted to, Robin, you would have found a way to do these things on the list on your own."

I shake my head. "I didn't want to face them alone." I pause and then shake my head, "But that's not what I meant."

His forehead wrinkles. "What did you mean?"

I bring my hands up to cup his face and look into his eyes, "You're the reason I'm not wasting anymore time and why every moment is precious. You made me feel again, Patrick. You brought me back to life. I was closed off and you forced your way in. You filled me up in ways I thought were lost to me forever...and in ways that were completely new and unexpected."

He smiles and leans down to kiss me softly. He then pulls back and says, "You did the same for me."

I snake my arms around his neck, my eyes again capturing his. "I realized something in the last year. Living as if tomorrow might never come, making each moment count, treasuring every precious day doesn't mean I have to go do something spontaneous or crazy or even fun, for that matter. It just means I have to be present, I have to live in the moment. And I do that with you. Whether we're falling out of airplanes together or I'm lying in your arms watching television, every moment is a gift. I don't take any of them for granted."

Patrick smiles and pulls me to him, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. I move my arms to wrap around his waist and lean my head against his chest. I feel the familiar weight of his chin resting on my head.

"You know, I'll understand if you want to do number six on your own though," he says quietly, his tone sincere.

I tilt my head to look up at him, my lips curling into a smile. "I didn't get to do it with my first love. I'd like to do it with my last."

He smiles and then brings his lips to mine again.

---

I stand on the balcony, sipping my morning coffee and watching the peaceful waves of the water. I left the sliding doors to the room open and turn around when I hear movement. I lean up against the railing and smile, as Patrick slowly stands up off the floor. He rubs at his eyes tiredly and runs a hand through his mussed hair. Even after another sleep-deprived night of fighting off my father's 'advances', he somehow manages to still look incredibly sexy. He hasn't noticed me yet and that's fine with me. I love to just watch him.

He takes a few steps forward, his eyes narrowing at the mirror hanging over the bureau. Oh, he must see the note Mom left attached to the mirror, stating, "Went for a run. Be back soon." I guess I forgot to take it down. A slow smile spreads across his lips, as he glances at the bathroom. I can hear the water from the shower even out here, but he seems to have just noticed it.

My brow furrows as he moves toward the bathroom door, his smile widening with each step. What is he doing?

His hand is on the doorknob before I have a chance to move. By the time I cross the threshold, he's inside the bathroom and I hear the swish of the shower curtain being pulled back.

Oh no.

I stop abruptly and cover my face with my hands, as two screaming voices ring out. I drop my hands just in time to see Patrick run out of the bathroom, his face white as a ghost.

A moment later, my father emerges, a towel wrapped around his waist. His shock seems to have worn off quickly and now he's simply wearing an amused smile as he looks at Patrick.

"Well, mate, I know we've gotten cozy there on the floor, but I just wouldn't feel right taking it any further. You know, out of respect to Robin."

Patrick shakes his head, seemingly to ward away the disturbing images. My shock has finally worn off and now I'm struggling not to dissolve into a fit of laughter. Patrick brings his hand up over his eyes.

He mutters, "I thought you were Robin."

I know I should probably be embarrassed that my boyfriend walked in on my father in the shower when he was really looking for me, but I'm not. I mean, I should be embarrassed on so many levels. But I can't find it anything but funny.

"I'm hurt. I thought we had something special," Dad says, eyes twinkling.

I look at Patrick. "Why did you think it was me?"

He shrugs and nods at the note. "I don't know. When I woke up and didn't see you, or anyone else for that matter, but saw the note, I just assumed that you were in the shower and your parents had gone for a run."

Dad crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head. "You know what they say about what happens when one assumes."

"Then I guess he made an ass out of you too, which never proves to be too difficult," I hear my mother's voice say.

It's then that I notice she's standing in the doorway. She apparently just walked in and used her spy deduction skills to figure out what happened.

Dad grins at my mother. "He wanted to get a look at the goods. I'd be more than happy to step back in the shower if you care to take a gander, too."

Mom's lips curls downward. "I'll pass. 'The goods'...," she says, pausing to make airquotes with her fingers, "...were nothing to write home about fifteen years ago. You're not a fine wine, Robert. I can't imagine they've improved with time...and age."

Dad brings his hand up to his chest. "Ouch."

I wave my hand at them. "Okay. Stop. This is beginning to get uncomfortable."

Patrick turns to me, eyebrows arched. "Beginning?"

Dad suddenly claps his hands. "All right, forget this nonsense. We need to get ready. We're doing horseback riding in the rainforest today or have you all forgotten?"

---

I look down at Patrick from my spot atop my horse. He's just staring at his own horse.

"Are you going to get on the horse or are you waiting to see who the winner of your stare down contest is?"

He licks at his lips. "Just give me a sec."

"You've ridden before, right?"

I'd ridden with Nikolas some years back and my parents must have learned at some point because they seem completely at home and at ease.

He lowers his eyes. "Of course I have."

My eyes narrow at him. And he calls me a terrible liar. "Oh yeah? When?"

"When I was a kid."

"Uh huh. Go on."

He sighs. "Okay, so it was a pony and it was at my sixth birthday party. We had pony rides."

Dad chuckles. "It counts...I guess."

I look at Patrick. "Look, it's not hard. You listened to everything the guide said. Just climb up and hold on. We're only walking. To make it walk, you squeeze gently with your lower legs. To make it stop, stiffen your lower back and squeeze gently with your legs, while stiffening the hands and pulling the reins back towards your body. It's just a walk through the rainforest. We're going to be going slow so we can see everything. You'll be fine."

He takes a deep breath and then slowly lets it out. He then grabs ahold of the saddle and climbs on top of the horse.

I smile. "See, now was that so hard?"

He shakes his head. "The hard part isn't getting on. It's staying on. I'd prefer not to be thrown headfirst into a very large tree in the rainforest."

"That's not going to happen."

I hope. I really, really hope.

The guide begins to move and we follow. My parents walk side by side and Patrick and I follow behind them.

I hold up my 'Guide to Australia's Rainforest' and show it to Patrick.

"I brought a guidebook."

He allows himself a small smile, while gripping the reins so tightly his knuckles are turning white. "Brings back memories of the last time we entered a wild area full of unknowns and things that can kill us. The jungle is very similar to the rainforest."

"Not really."

"Yes really. It has plants, annoying bugs, and dangerous animals. That snake nearly killed me in the Markham Islands."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, it did not." I pause and then say with a grin, "Plus, you had me there to protect you."

He offers me a crooked grin, his eyes scanning my body, which is clad in a white tank top and khaki shorts. "Where did you hide your machete this time?"

---

We finally enter the rainforest and it's beyond my wildest dreams. The vibrant colors of the plants and wildlife are breathtaking. I guide the horse with one hand and hold my guidebook with the other, pointing out animals and plants as we move along.

"Those are coiled lianas," I say gesturing to the plant on my right.

Patrick and my parents follow my finger.

"Oh and that's a night tiger tree snake!" I gasp, looking up at the branch hanging above our heads and the snake coiled around it.

Dad looks over at Mom and mutters, "I feel like I'm on a field trip. I hope we don't have to write an essay for homework tonight. I've got plans."

Patrick laughs, as I throw him a glare. I slam my book shut. "Sorry for trying to make our experience a little educational. I thought it might be nice to learn something. The guide's too far ahead for us to hear him." My father looks back at me. "Why did you set this up if you didn't want to learn anything?"

He shrugs. "I thought it would be cool to just explore."

A mischievous sparkle suddenly appears in his eyes. He stops his horse abruptly.

Mom turns to him. "Robert, what are you doing? We're going to lose the guide."

He waggles his eyebrows. "That's the idea."

Patrick shakes his head. "What are you talking about?"

"It's boring to just stay on the path laid out for us, following a guide like a bunch of damn robots. There's more fun to be had if we veer off. Don't worry, I can find my way back to the site."

The three of us shake our heads, but it's too late. Dad turns his horse right and we have no choice but to follow.

"Robert!" Mom says, as her horse resumes its place next to his. "So, help me, if you get us-..."

He rolls his eyes, "Oh, Anna, you used to be a lot more fun. I guess you're right. Some things don't improve with time and age."

Her mouth drops open and she quickly tears her purse off her body and hits him with it. Unfortunately, she's a little too aggressive and the purse goes flying out of her hands. It hits Patrick's horse in the side. This startles the horse and he raises up on his hind legs. Patrick's eyes widen in fear, as the horse suddenly takes off into the rainforest.

"Oh my God! Patrick!" I scream, as my horse follows it.

I hear my parents following behind me, arguing over whose fault it was. My eyes focus on Patrick, who's holding on for dear life and wailing like a banshee. His body is being thrown around like a rag doll. We chase after him for fifteen minutes, until the horse abruptly stops. I honestly didn't think that would end without Patrick flying off that horse.

I sigh in relief, as my horse comes to stand beside his. Patrick slides off the horse, his legs wobbling beneath him. I jump off my horse and run over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"Are you okay?"

"Once again my ability to reproduce may be compromised, but, yeah, sure," he replies weakly.

I laugh, as I bury my face in his chest. I hear my parents approach a moment later.

"Well, what do you have to say, Robert?"

I turn to look at my father and mother. Dad sighs. "Patrick, I apologize for going off the path." He then adds quietly, "Although it was Anna who actually caused your ordeal."

Mom punches him in the arm. "You arrogant a-..."

I pull away from Patrick and grit my teeth. "Okay! Enough! You both share the blame." They lower their eyes. "Dad, you shouldn't have taken it upon yourself to just leave the trail and Mom you shouldn't have hit dad with your purse."

"Sorry," they both mumble, eyes rooted to the ground.

I take a deep breath. "Now, do you think we can all work together to find our way out of here?"

My parents nod dejectedly.

---

Three hours later, we're still walking through the rainforest, as we guide our horses by the reins. We thought it better not to be on the horses should anything else go wrong.

"We passed this tree before," Patrick states flatly.

I look at the tree. "No, we didn't."

"Yes, we did. Four times, in fact. I used my key to carve a little tally in it the last three times," he says gesturing.

I look at the little marks on the tree where he's pointing. "Well, why didn't you say anything sooner?"

He shrugs and looks at me and my parents. "I don't know. I guess I figured Adventure Girl and her Super Spy parents would have noticed after, say, the third time."

He's starting to get cranky. Mom and Dad stop in their tracks at the statement.

Dad points at Patrick, "Listen, son, I'll forget more places than you'll ever go in your lifetime."

"I'll bet," Patrick mumbles, as he swats at a bug on his neck and groans.

Dad's eyes widen and Mom bites her lip to keep from laughing. "Was that a crack about my mind not being what it used to be because I've gotten a little older?"

Mom shrugs. "Well, let's examine the facts. You lost the tickets and forgot to call to confirm the room, so I think he has a point."

"I don't see you leading us out of here, Anna," Dad counters.

"I don't remember being arrogant enough to declare that I would."

I drag my hands down my face. "All right, I think we should just stop and rest for a while. We're all exhausted and we're beginning to snap at each other."

All three sigh in agreement and we sink down to the ground.

---

I giggle, unwilling to open my eyes, as I feel something tickling my bare shoulder. Patrick must be trying to wake me from my rainforest nap with a kiss. A smile spreads across my lips, as I slowly open my eyes and find myself staring at Patrick, who's sound asleep. My brow furrows and the smile quickly fades away. I look up at my shoulder and my mouth drops open. There's a line of ants crawling across it!

I scream and jump up. Patrick and my parents waken too, all three leaping to their feet.

I swat at my shoulder, yelling, "Ants! Ants!"

After nearly a minute of jumping around, I finally stop and let out a breath. I glance at my shoulder, then the rest of body, to make sure it's ant-free.

I then look at Patrick and my parents, who immediately start laughing.

"It's not funny!"

Patrick offers me a grin. "It's pretty funny."

Mom smiles. "We're sorry, darling, but the way you were jumping around it looked as if you had, well, ants in your pants."

Patrick and my father dissolve into another fit of laughter at this.

"I had ants crawling all over me! Gross, disgusting ants!"

Patrick looks down at the ground where the ants now reside. He then picks up my guidebook and opens to a page, showing us a picture. "They're not just any ants, Robin. They're green ants." He then grins, "You're right, it is nice to learn something."

Jackass.

Dad chuckles and pats Patrick on the back. "Thank you, Drake, for making this experience educational."

Bigger jackass.

I scowl, grab a hold of my horse's reins and stalk off.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart! Don't be so sensitive!" Dad calls after me.

"Robin! Lighten up!" Patrick yells.

I continue walking. I don't walk more than a few minutes before I begin to recognize this area as the one we originally came down with the guide. I walk a few more yards and soon I emerge from the rainforest. Unbelievable. All that time and we were a three minute walk away.

Mom, Dad, and Patrick join me a minute later, shaking their heads, as they come to the same realization.

Patrick smiles at my parents. "I've really got to hand it to you two. Those spy survival instincts of yours are spot-on."

I laugh, enjoying the fact that Patrick is now able to join in our Scorpio family teasing. He is truly a part of the family. Of course, if he continues to gang up on me with them like he just did, he won't be getting any for quite some time.

---

The next morning, Mom and Dad decide to go to the beach, while Patrick and I go for our swim with the dolphins.

As we reach the boat, I smile, place my hand in his, and look up at him.

"What?" he asks, turning to look down at me, a smile upon his own lips.

"I'm just glad to be here with you, that's all," I say softly.

His smile widens and he bends down to give me a soft kiss on the lips.

We then turn our attention to our guide, Vanessa. She's about our age with curly, long brown hair and a slim figure. "The first thing you need to remember when interacting with dolphins is that you are on their turf. You are invading their space, their home. So you must treat that space and them with respect at all times. Do not chase or pursue the dolphins. They have normal daily activities that they engage in which should not be disrupted. Let them decide on the type of contact you will have. Do not try to touch them. Touching or grabbing them could scare them away or cause aggressive behavior if they feel threatened. Swim alongside them, but respect their own space. Splash as little as possible and keep your arms and legs by your side. Remember, let them decide on the relationship they wish to have with you."

We then climb aboard the boat and the guide drives us out into the water. She finally stops and lowers down the ladder. The ten other people aboard, immediately get off. Patrick and I take deep breaths as we look at the water, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. This is the first time we've been in the water since our scuba diving ordeal a few days earlier. Patrick smiles at me comfortingly, then takes my hand in his. We step into the water together.

Vanessa warned us that it might take a while for the dolphins to show up, if they did at all. After nearly fifteen minutes of waiting and looking, a pod of dolphins appears out of nowhere. They're incredible. I gasp and look at Patrick, as two swim right by us. They flip over and circle back, this time slipping in between us. I laugh, as one grazes my thigh. They come back again and go around us, then come up out of the water, make a little squeaking noise, and nod their heads at us, as if to follow.

Patrick and I exchange a look, before slowly moving to either side of them. We make careful movements with our arms and legs, making sure to give them their own space.

I feel my eyes begin to sting with tears, as I look over at Patrick, who's smiling from ear-to-ear. Stone would have loved this. I can only hope that he's watching from wherever he is and smiling down on me.

I'm thrown from my thoughts, by Patrick sneezing. I look over at him.

"Bless you."

"Thanks."

He then sneezes again. And again. The third time, the dolphin turns his head toward him.

"Are you okay?"

He nods. "Yeah. Just one of those things I gue-...ACHOO!"

He quickly brings his hands up to cover his mouth, splashing the dolphin in the face in the process. The dolphin turns to him again and opens his mouth, apparently finding the sound, sudden movement, and splashing to be threatening. Suddenly, he brings his head up and butts it up against Patrick's face.

I clamp my hands over my mouth, as Patrick's hands immediately go to cover his nose. The dolphins swim off without us.

I can see blood trickling down his face.

"Are you okay?"

He glares at me over his hand.

I grimace. "Sorry. Stupid question."

I then wave to Vanessa. She jumps out of the boat and we both help Patrick back into the boat. She pulls out a First Aid kit and applies gloves. She then hands him a piece of gauze and tells him to hold it over his nose.

"I think it's broken," he mutters.

"It's not broken."

He sighs and then looks at me. "I'm sorry."

I bring my hand to his cheek and then kiss his forehead. "Nothing to be sorry about."

---

I open the door to the room and help Patrick inside. Mom and Dad are sitting at the table by the window, enjoying an afternoon snack.

The moment Dad catches sight of Patrick's bandaged nose, he doubles over in laughter. I throw him a glare and Mom hits his shoulder. Patrick walks over to the bed and lies down on it, doing his best to ignore my father.

Dad shakes his head. "The water is not your friend, son. Now Flipper's gone and attacked you."

Mom groans. "Robert, can't you see the boy is in pain? Try showing a little compassion and sensitivity."

I sit down on the bed and move Patrick's hair off his forehead.

I smile at my mother. "Thank you, Mom."

But Dad shakes his head, as he crosses his arms over his chest, then gestures at Patrick with one hand. "From what I've seen and heard, Drake's survival skills are less than impressive. I don't know, sweetheart. Are you sure this is the guy you want to spend your life with?

"Robert!" my mother says, her mouth dropping open.

But I look at the grin upon his lips and the twinkle in his eyes. I simply smile and nod, as I look down at Patrick and then squeeze his hand.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Dad chuckles, nods, and then puts his hands on his hips. "Congratulations, Drake. There's officially nothing you can do to change her mind, despite what seem to be your best efforts."

Patrick laughs, before wincing in pain.

---- Up Next: To Do # 13 - Shower in a Waterfall


	14. To Do 13: Shower in a Waterfall

I sent the last one by accident before I meant to so it had the wrong note in it. So read this one instead.

Title: The List  
Author: Steph   
Rating: Soft R  
Pairing: Robin/Patrick  
Category: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
POV: Robin  
Disclaimer: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
Spoilers: Nope.  
Summary: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

Note: Nothing too graphic, but it is for mature readers. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought! -Steph

--- The List: To Do # 13 - Shower in a Waterfall ---

I stare down at my ice cream and smile at the abundance of rainbow sprinkles covering it. It's funny how when you're in love every seemingly insignificant, inconsequential thing can cause you to think about that person. Any little thing can remind you of the other or trigger a memory.

When Patrick and I first moved in together, we got into a silly discussion about ice cream and sprinkles. I insisted that the topping was necessary on the delicious treat. He insisted that they had no taste and took away from the flavor of the ice cream. This somehow led to him making a sundae on my stomach and then agreeing that sprinkles are a fine topping...on me.

I feel my smile widen at the memory.

"It makes me so happy to see you like this." My mother's voice throws me from my thoughts.

I'd forgotten she was sitting across me, as we share ice cream sundaes at the little cafe in our resort.

I slowly raise my eyes, my face reddening and my brow furrowing. "Like what?"

Mom smiles. "Completely content. To see that you've found a man who can put a huge smile on your face when he's nowhere in sight."

My blush deepens. "How do you know I was thinking of Patrick?"

"Oh, luv, I know a dreamy look when I see one. I've experienced a few in my day. I know what causes them. Or should I say who."

I shake my head and smile. "I love him so much, Mom."

My mother nods. "I know, sweetheart. And he loves you, too. I see it every time he looks at you. I am so glad you finally found the man you were meant to spend your life with. Now I can finally stop worrying."

My eyes narrow at her. "Worrying?"

"Yes, worrying. Robin, I knew how miserable you were living in Paris. How lonely and isolated you felt. You put on a good show, but I could hear it in your voice whenever we spoke, see it in your eyes whenever I looked into them. You had closed your mind and heart to the possibility of ever finding love again."

I feel tears begin to sting my eyes. I guess I was more transparent that I realized.

"But then you moved back to Port Charles. At first, whenever we spoke, I could hear the same quiet loneliness in your voice. Then something changed," she smiles and reaches over to cover my hands with hers. "You met Patrick. And, suddenly, whenever we talked there was a passion in your voice, a renewed spirit, a hope. You didn't realize it at first, of course. You were too busy whining about how arrogant and shallow he was. But I knew right away. You had found him. He breathed new life into you. He would be the man to open those doors you had closed long ago." I wipe at a tear that has cascaded down my cheek, then chuckle softly as another falls into my ice cream before I can catch it. "I knew it would take you a while to realize it because I know all about men like Patrick Drake. I married one. They don't make things easy, but once they find their way into your heart, they never leave."

I smile sadly at my mother. "You'll always love dad, won't you? No matter what you say to each other or how you act, you will always love him."

Mom nods her head. "Like I said, the Patrick Drakes and Robert Scorpios of the world have a way of grabbing onto women's hearts and never letting go."

I swallow hard. "You know, I was scared that Patrick and I were too much like you two. That if you couldn't make it work, maybe there would come a time when we couldn't either."

She purses her lips and rubs my hands. "You two are different. You do something that your father and I could never manage to. You put each other first. You have a destiny that is your own. You aren't fated to follow in our footsteps."

"Patrick believes we were meant to be together."

She grins and raises her eyebrows. "Smart man."

I let out a breath and wipe my cheeks with my fingers, as I look down at my ice cream, "Women shouldn't eat ice cream together. It just makes them want to share stuff and then they end up ruining their delicious sweet treat with their stupid, salty tears."

I feel her hand move to my chin and she lifts my head so my gaze meets hers. "You deserve this happiness. Enjoy every moment of it. Take nothing for granted."

I nod. "I've learned that lesson in the last year. I don't take a second for granted." I then sigh and smile at her. "Speaking of the men in our lives, how do you think they're doing spending a little alone time together?"

Mom laughs and moves her hand back to her spoon, digging into her chocolate ice cream and sticking it in her mouth. She then points the spoon at me. "Well, I am sure your father is torturing the poor boy to no end. You father has some rather unique ideas about bonding."

---

Mom and I smile, as we near the croquet court. They don't see us, but we're close enough to hear their conversation.

Dad hits his ball through the hoop...wire...thingy.

He then turns to Patrick, "I kept tabs on her while I was away, you know."

They're doing the typical male thing. Having a meaningful conversation while engaging in something competitive or inherently manly. This way, they can share without risking the possibility of any awkward looks or uncomfortable silences.

Patrick hits his ball, as Dad goes on. "I had someone report to me how she was doing, all of her successes and milestones...in her professional and personal life. But when she moved to Paris, the professional updates continued, but the personal ones became nearly nonexistent. There wasn't much to report. Her work became her life. She would go out with friends here and there, but she mostly hid in her work, isolated herself from the world. I worried about her."

I drop my eyes to the ground, as my mother puts her arm around my shoulders. There's something inside of me though that swells at the mere thought of him worrying about me during all of the time we spent apart.

It's Dad's turn again and he takes his shot, moving his ball closer to the peg. "But then she moved back here. And, soon, I was getting updates that included a certain hotshot doc who had entered her life." Patrick raises his eyes to my father, as he goes on. "I was told how you chased her and she resisted. How you infuriated her, but intrigued her all at the same time. And that's when I knew I could stop worrying. She'd found you. She'd found love again. Neither of you realized that you were headed down that path, of course, but I did. I knew all of the signs. And when I saw the way you took care of her when she got sick, the way you fought for her, I knew I'd been right. You'd let a Devane woman get ahold of you and there was no letting go."

Patrick stares at my father for a long moment, surprised by his words, but quietly absorbing them. I know he's probably thinking that he had no idea my father felt that way when they first encountered each other during the epidemic. I had no idea either.

He smiles at Patrick. "Your turn, mate." Patrick slowly lowers his gaze from my father's face and sets himself up to make the shot. He's in mid-stroke when my father's voice cuts in, as he speaks calmly and matter-of-factly. "Having said that, you're going to make my little girl happy for the rest of her life, right, Drake? Because you realize if you break her heart, there's no corner of this world you can hide in. I'll hunt you down and break your legs...for starters."

My eyes widen and Patrick's mouth drops open. He loses his focus and hits the croquet ball far too hard. It bounces up off the ground, then hits a bump, and leaps into the air. It proceeds to hit my father...in the crotch.

My hands and my mother's fly up to cover our mouths, as I gasp in horror. Dad's mouth turns into a little 'o', he groans, then moves his hand to cover the injured area, before double over. Patrick simply stares at him in shock, frozen to his spot. The croquet mallet falls from his hands and drops to the ground.

Mom and I finally recover enough to run over to Dad.

"Dad, are you all right?" I ask, placing my hand on his back and leaning down.

"Serves you right for threatening the poor boy!" Mom says, slapping his shoulder.

Okay, I guess we have different ways of showing our concern.

Patrick swallows hard and manages to walk over to us. "I am so sorry. I don't know what happened. I just-..."

Mom holds a hand up. "You have nothing to apologize for. He distracted you."

Dad glances up at Mom, his face red and his voice weak. "Anna, the boy just hit me in a most sensitive area with a croquet ball. I'll have to consult my etiquette manual to be sure, but distracted or not, I think it's only common courtesy to apologize."

Mom rolls her eyes. "Don't worry, I'm sure 'the goods' will recover nicely."

Patrick and I each put an arm around my father and begin to help him off the court.

Patrick glances at me and smiles weakly. "And we were just beginning to bond."

---

"You're being ridiculous, Robert," Mom says, as he waddles over to the archery court.

He and Patrick had planned to follow croquet up with archery. My father spent a total of five minutes putting ice on the injured area before declaring himself well. Of course, the fact that he's walking like a duck should be a tip-off that not all is healed.

Patrick leans in close to me and whispers, "Um, call me a wimp, but I'm not so sure I like the idea of being around your father and arrows right now."

I smile up at him. "Wimp."

He shakes his head. "Look, your father and I are a lot alike-..."

"You don't say," I say, controlling my smile.

He feigns a grin. "Ha ha. I mean, that his ego's a little bruised right now and he's going to try extra hard to prove himself."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," I say, patting his back.

He nods. "Oh, I know I will. My college offered archery. I was the best on my team. We won three college tournaments."

I raise my eyebrows and shake my head, as a smile crosses my lips. "Who knew I fell in love with Robin Hood?"

He laughs, as we catch up to my parents. My father's got a bow in his hands and is squeezing one eye closed, as he peers at the target.

"Robert, I cannot believe that your ego is so big that you are willing to engage in this silly activity while in considerable pain."

Dad waves at Patrick with an arrow. "I promised the boy archery, Anna. Tomorrow's our last full day here. We have to enjoy the activities this resort has to offer before we are no longer able to."

"Since when do you like archery? You've never held a bow in your life."

He grins at my mother and winks. "I have a natural talent in many areas, Anna. You should know that by now."

Mom simply rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and crosses her arms over her chest.

Just then, one of the instructors comes over and gives Patrick and my father directions, tips and guidelines. My father doesn't pay much attention, seeming too interested in holding the bow and squinting the way he's seen in too many movies.

When the instructor finishes, he hands Patrick his own bow and arrows. I watch as Patrick set himself up, expertly holding the bow and then pulling it back. The arrow flies forward and hits the target, nearly making a bullseye.

I smile. Damn, he's even sexier when he's showing off his skills in certain areas. That's probably why I get turned on whenever I'm observing him in surgery.

Dad's eyes widen, but he shrugs. "Lucky shot."

Patrick throws him a crooked grin, then turns his attention back to the target. He aims and shoots again, his arrow landing right next to the first and even closer to the bullseye.

Dad's mouth drops open, but he clears his throat. "Beginner's luck."

Patrick and I exchange a knowing glance. He then refocuses his attention on the task at hand and shoots again. Bullseye.

A grin overtakes Patrick's lips. He turns to me and I throw my arms around him. "That was incredible."

My mother pats his shoulder. "Simply amazing." She then turns to my father. "You've got your work cut out for you, Robert."

Patrick steps aside and watches in amusement as my father fiddles with the bow. He's trying to imitate Patrick, but failing miserably. He's got the grip and stance all wrong. He finally picks up an arrow and then pulls it back. It goes flying...behind him.

All three of us swallow a laugh, as my father mutters, "Must have been something wrong with that arrow."

He tries again, with the exact same result. "Bad bunch of arrows," he mumbles.

The third time, he makes a big production of squinting and holding the arrow just so. Unfortunately, he loses his grip and the arrow slips, hitting him in his right eye.

Ouch! Looks like Patrick's bad luck has rubbed off on my father. I guess that's what he gets for taunting him about his own mishaps.

Dad's hand flies up to his eye. "Damn it!"

Mom takes the bow and arrow from him. "Come on, Prince of Thieves. Let's get you some more ice."

---

"I've honestly never met a man as stubborn as you!" Mom says through gritted teeth, as she follows my father to the beach where the coconut dehusking contest will be taking place. Seriously, I didn't make that up. That's an activity offered here.

Dad squints his good eye at my mother. The other is covered by a black patch. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing and refraining from making any pirate jokes. Patrick doesn't have my willpower though.

He leans down and whispers in my ear, "Coconut dehusking with a reject from the 'Pirates of the Caribbean?' What more can you ask for out of a vacation?"

I giggle discreetly, as we sit down on the mats, a basket of coconuts in front of each of us. Coconut dehusking simply means removing the brown shell that covers the fruit. The instructor quickly shows us how to do this and offers us some tips. Apparently, the guests at this resort enjoy the other multitude of activities it and the island have to offer more than this because we are the only participants in the contest. We're excited to learn that the winner gets to keep all of his or her dehusked coconuts. What incentive!

The instructor pulls out a stop watch, telling us that we have five minutes to see how many coconuts we can dehusk.

"On your mark, get set, go!"

The competitive spirit in each one of us ignites and we begin to rip into our coconuts. I figured my mother wouldn't risk ruining her nicely manicured nails, but I was wrong. She tears into the coconuts with reckless abandon. Patrick is having difficulty getting started and keeps putting the coconut down and staring at in confusion. My father is a sight to behold as he narrows his lone good eye and tries in vain to dehusk the coconut. I'm holding my own, working slow, but steady.

After three minutes, Mom has dehusked five coconuts, I've done three, Patrick's still struggling with his first, and Dad's taken to stomping on his and calling it nasty names.

"Come on, you bastard!" he says, as he drops himself back down to the ground and slams it against the mat.

He slams it so hard, the coconut breaks open and the milk comes spewing out. It sprays him in his remaining eye.

All three of us drop our coconuts, as he screams. "Son of a bitch! It stings!"

He then jumps up and waddles inside.

As he disappears, we dissolves into a fit of laughter. 

My mother shakes her head and sighs. "I guess he's going to need another patch."

Patrick smiles and turns to me. "I like this. I think we should do the rest of the list and take every vacation from here on out with your parents."

I arch an eyebrow. "What, are you suffering from heat stroke or something?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "No, it seems I've passed my luck onto your father. I'm enjoying this change of pace."

I simply chuckle.

---

Today's our last full day in Australia. I smile at Patrick and slip my hand in his. We just spent some time on the beach and now we're strolling leisurely around the island, exploring it.

I'm sad to say good-bye to this place. Spending time together as a family, one that now includes Patrick, has been more precious to me than I could ever put into words. I'm even more content and at peace than I already was before we came here. We've made memories that we will have for the rest of our lives. Patrick and I have grown even closer and gained a deeper understanding of our relationship and our future together. I couldn't have asked for anything more.

Patrick suddenly stops, removes his hand from mine, and comes to stand behind me. He places his hands over my eyes.

"I have a surprise for you," he whispers in my ear.

I smile. "Oh, yeah? What is it?"

"You'll see."

He presses his bare chest into my back and I feel goosebumps rise up as our skin makes contact. He leaves one hand over my eyes, as his free arm encircles my waist. He then pushes me forward, guiding us along.

"You're not going to let me slam into a tree or anything, right?"

"And risk marring that beautiful face? Not a chance." He then adds. "Although it would be nice payback for all of those times I was injured or humiliated and your first reaction was to laugh."

I stomp on his foot and he lets out a little yelp.

"You know, you can trust me to keep my own eyes closed."

"Can I? I'm not so sure."

We walk like that for another five minutes, until I sigh.

"Are we there yet?"

"What are you? Five? Patience."

After a few more moments, he stops.

"Keep your eyes closed until I say."

He finally removes his hand and slips his arm around my waist to join his other. He pulls me against him and whispers, "Okay, you can look."

My eyes fly open and then grow as wide as saucers at the sight before me. Only a few yards away is a beautiful waterfall. The water cascades gracefully over the rock cliff, falling down in glassy sheets. It's surrounded by luscious green plants and vibrant flowers.

"Oh my God. I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful."

He leans close to my cheek, his eyes scanning my face. "I have," he says softly.

I smile and bring my hand up to cup his face, then guide his lips to mine.

"This is amazing. How did you find it?"

"Well, I started thinking about what you haven't done on your list and I realized number 19 has been neglected. So, I figured I'd ask if there was a waterfall around this paradise and, guess what? There is."

I turn around in his embrace and snake my arms around his neck. "You're incredible, you know that?"

He grins. "Actually, I do. I've known for quite some time. But you can feel free to keep telling me."

I laugh and shake my head.

He then adds huskily, his eyes suddenly growing dark with desire. "Although the fact that number 19 involves you without your clothes on, something that I've been sorely missing for a week now, was certainly a driving force."

I nod. "I'm sure it was."

His hand fingers the string of my blue tropical print bikini top, which is tied behind my neck. "You're wearing far too much clothes."

He then takes my hand in his and pulls me along toward the waterfall. We carefully walk over some rocks and then duck into a little rock cliff just behind the fall. The cliff extends right into the waterfall. Patrick steps into the path of the water, smiling as it falls over him. I watch as the water slides down his toned chest and moves to his bathing suit.

His hand darts out and he gently grabs my wrist, pulling me toward him.

"Get in here," he whispers.

I smile and laugh, as I collide into his chest and the chilly water falls over my body. My laugh slowly fades away though, as I look into his eyes. Those eyes get me every time.

His lips move to mine and his tongue begs entrance, as it slides across the seam of my lips. I open to him and he dives in. It feels like I haven't tasted him, felt him, in forever. My hands move to the muscles of his back, sliding up and down his slick skin. He tears his mouth away from mine and begins kissing his way down my chin, then my neck. He sucks at the base of my throat and I arch against him, digging my fingernails into his back.

I throw my head back and moan in pleasure, as he works his way down my chest, his lips digging into the valley of my bikini top between my breasts. His hands move to cup my breasts through the wet material and he begins massaging them, kneading them. My nipples harden, as his thumbs brush over them.

His hands move to the back of my neck, as I bring my mouth to his shoulder and kiss it. He nibbles on my ear, as he expertly unties the little bow at the nape of my neck. He then moves down my back and undoes the clasp. The top falls to the ground and he pulls back, admiring me appreciatively. I smile and entangle my fingers in his hair, as I guide his head down to my breast. He takes my nipple in his mouth, sucking, then encircling it with his tongue in a way that he know drives me wild. I press against him and grip his hair, as he takes me more fully into his mouth and I let out a strangled moan. He moves to my other breast and kisses it. I wait for him to take me in his mouth again and groan in disappointment, when he instead kisses a path down my stomach. 

His tongue circles my belly button, before his hands move to the delicate bows at my hips. I laugh, as he unties each one with his teeth and then slowly pulls the fabric down my hip. His hands slide down my legs, his touch causing shivers to course through my body. He then stands and looks into my eyes, as he pushes his body up against mine and moves us forward, pinning me against the rock wall. The water falls down his face and I bring my hand up to brush a few stray hairs out of his eyes. He raises his hand up and moves the hair plastered to my forehead away, replacing them with a soft kiss.

I look at him, as I bring my hand to the band of his bathing suit. "You know I would like nothing more than to make love to you right now, but we don't have any pro-..."

He silences me by reaching into the pocket of his bathing suit and pulling out a see-through waterproof bag with the protection we need. I smile and shake my head.

"What? You think I wasn't going to be prepared? I've got you naked in a waterfall and you think I'm going to let that opportunity pass me by? You don't know me at all," he says with a wide grin.

I laugh and eagerly bring my hand to his bathing suit, pushing it down his hips. It falls to the ground and he kicks it aside. I smile at his always impressive sight. He's certainly ready and it's a good thing because I can't wait a moment longer to have him. He pulls the condom wrapper out of the bag, but when his wet fingers fumble with it, I impatiently take it from his hands, ripping into it. I take it out and then slowly roll it over him.

I then bury my head in his neck and kiss it. His hands move to my waist, as the water falls around us, and he lifts me up against the rock. I raise one leg up and wrap it around his hip, as I open to him. I lift my head and our eyes lock, as he slips inside of me, filling me up in so many ways. I gasp and squeeze my eyes shut, as he rocks back and forth, pushing me into the slick stone. I lift my other leg up and wrap it around him. My hands slip down his back and then to his nicely sculpted bottom. I cup it and squeeze, as his mouth finds mine again and he devours my lips.

Then, in one motion, he spins us around and puts his hand behind my head as he slowly guides me down to the moss covered rock below us, just out of reach of the water. I arch my back and remove my legs from his hips, raising up to him, as he plunges in again and again. He plants his hands on either side of me, hovering above me and looking into my eyes, as he pushes me over the edge and we slowly finish. He then collapses on top of me, burying his head in the crook of my neck and nuzzling my skin with his lips.

I wrap my arms around his back and whisper, "I love you," in his ear.

He smiles against my skin and says, "I love you, too." He then raises his head up and meets my eyes, as his traces his thumb across my lower lip. "I didn't think it was possible to love you anymore because of how much you already fill me up. How completely you consume me. But everyday I find myself loving you more and more."

I smile, as tears begin to sting my eyes. "What's that famous saying? Each day I love you more. Today more than yesterday and less than tomorrow." He kisses away a tear that slips down my cheek. "That means we'll never stop growing together. That the love we feel for one another will only continue to evolve."

He smiles. "And that means we're going to make it. It's the ones that grow apart, instead of together, or never change at all, that don't."

He then breaks contact with me, rolling away only far enough to pull a large leaf off a plant. He then slides up against my side.

"You know, I'm not sure if we really accomplished the showering part of the item on your list," he says, trailing the leaf down my stomach.

I smile, "If anything, I feel dirtier."

He laughs and then wraps his arm around me, pulling me on top of him. He then inches our way so that we're beneath the water again.

"Well, we can't have that," he says.

He then proceeds to use the leaf as a makeshift wash cloth. He brings it up my back, as I laugh at how ticklish it feels. He brings it down my arm, before I pull it from his grip. I sit up, straddling his hips. He brings his hands up and grips my waist. I smile and bring the leaf down his chest, making little circles and aimless designs. After a few moments, he slides upward and sits up, so that we are facing each other, very much like that first night we spent together. He looks into my eyes, just as he did that night and every time since. And, every time he looks at me, I'm sure I've never been loved like this before.

"Do you know what I thought when I looked at you the first time we made love?" he asks softly.

I smile. "What?"

"I thought, 'For everything I've done wrong in my life, every mistake I've ever made, for all of my faults, I must have done something right because you're here with me when you could be with anyone else in this world'."

Tears begin to sting my eyes again and I cup his cheek. "Do you know what I thought?"

"What?"

I smile gently. "There's no one else in this world I'd rather be with right now...or ever again."

I then pull his face towards mine and kiss his lips.

And that's how I feel at this moment, too.

---

After enjoying a few more moments in the waterfall, Patrick and I spend the rest of the day lying in each other's arms on the beach. By the time night falls, we realize it's probably time to head back to reality. As much as we are enjoying our time with my parents, we relished the opportunity to spend some time alone, to have some privacy.

As we walk hand-in-hand back to the resort, I feel my neck start to itch. I reach up and scratch. Then I feel my back itch. I try to reach the spot, but can't.

"Patrick, can you scratch my back, right below my left shoulder blade, please."

I don't receive an answer as his hand slips from mine.

"Patrick?" I say, as I turn to look at him.

My eyes widen, as I notice he's scratching his chest furiously, like a cat with fleas. I take a closer look and realize he's got little red bumps all over his chest. 

"Oh my God!"

He turns to me and now it's his turn for his eyes to grow big, as he points to my back. "They're all over you, too!"

I shake my head. "The leaf! It must have been something poisonous!"

We both exchange a weary look. We should have known the day had gone too well. We should have guessed that we wouldn't have been able to cross an item off the list without something happening.

---

The resort doctor said that our party set a new record using his services. He even joked we should get one of those cards where you punch holes and get something free after ten visits.

The plant was indeed something poisonous. It has a name neither one of us could pronounce or care to remember. By the time we reached the doctor, out entire bodies were spotted with little red, itchy bumps. We are currently covered in Calamine lotion and look like two giraffes. As we make our way back to our room, all I can think about is resting.

Patrick sticks the keycard in the door and it swings open, revealing my parents sitting on the bed looking at us expectantly. Our gazes move to the table by the window, which is covered with a white tablecloth, candles, glasses filled with champagne and two silver covered platters.

Their mouths drops open before ours do, as they take in the sight of us.

"What's going on?" all four of us say in unison, as my parents jump up.

We all proceed to frown.

"I asked you first," we then reply, again in unison.

My mother finally groans and holds her hands up. "We go first. What the hell happened to you two?"

I shake my head, not wanting to get into the details. "Let's just say we touched a plant we shouldn't have."

My father waggles his eyebrows. "Right."

I gesture to the table. "Did we interrupt something?"

My mother looks at the table, then my father, and then back at me, her lips curling downward. "Oh, God, no!"

Dad smirks. "You don't have to sound so disgusted by the notion, Anna."

She ignores him and smiles, "No, that's for you two. We realized that the other day was your one year anniversary."

"And since you spent it being shark bait, we thought we'd give you a redo."

I smile, touched by the gesture. I look at Patrick, as a smile also crosses his lips.

Mom goes on, "We felt bad that you haven't really had your privacy during this trip, so we figured we'd give you the room to yourself and a romantic dinner on our last night. A room became available with two beds, so your father and I will spend the night there."

I shake my head and rush forward, ready to pull my parents into a hug, but my mother holds a hand up stopping me. "That's sweet, darling, but we'll pass," she says, gesturing to my polka-dot body.

She and my father then brush past me.

Dad taps Patrick's shoulder, as he bites back a grin and chuckle. "Enjoy your night, mate."

Then they're out the door. Patrick and I just stand there for a few moments staring at each other, before we both double over in laughter. It takes us a full minute to recover.

I shake my head, "Can you believe this? We have a nice romantic dinner and the room to ourselves and we look like animal print!"

He nods and lets out a breath, "I know. Unbelievable."

I move toward him and wrap my arms around his neck. "Are you hungry?"

"Not for food," he says, his eyes quickly growing heated.

I laugh and take a step back, swatting his chest. "I knew it."

"What?" he asks, brow wrinkling.

"There is officially nothing that will stop you from wanting sex. Nothing. Not ghosts, or Beach Jail or bunk beds or sharing a room with your cousin or being robbed or seeing a naked old man sitting in a bathtub or sharks or itchy skin conditions that make us look like leopards."

I take a deep breath.

"You done?" he asks with a smile.

I nod, "Yeah, I think so."

He shakes his head and closes the distance between us again, encircling my waist. "You've got it all wrong."

I look up into his eyes. "Oh yeah? Set me straight then."

He smiles and says softly. "It's not about wanting sex. It's about wanting you. Nothing will stop me from that."

He then lowers his lips down to mine.

I pull back after a moment and shake my head, as I smile and place my hands on his chest, gently pushing him away. "Nice try, but you're not getting lucky tonight."

He shrugs and grins. "I gave it a shot."

----  
Up Next: To Do # 14 - Spend New Year's in an Exotic Location.


	15. To Do 14:New Year's in Exotic Location

Title: The List  
Author: Steph   
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: Robin/Patrick  
Category: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff  
POV: Robin  
Disclaimer: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.  
Spoilers: Nope.  
Summary: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

--- The List: To Do # 14 - Spend New Year's in an Exotic Location ---

"That's not a word," I say, gesturing to Patrick's tiles on the Scrabble board.

"It most certainly is," he replies, nodding his head.

"No, it's not."

Patrick smirks. "You're just upset because of how convincingly I am kicking your sweet little ass."

"You're winning by ten points," I state.

"True, but there are only five tiles left in the pool and I know for a fact that you are the proud owner of an X and a Z. Good luck with that."

"Patrick, 'ai' is not a word."

"If you doubt it, then request a Dictionary Challenge. That is, if you want to risk it."

After countless fights over the validity of words, I came up with a rule that a player could request a Dictionary Challenge. The word would be looked up in the dictionary. If it was in the dictionary, then the player who issued the challenge had to subtract twenty points from their total and the challenged player earned points for the word's total, plus an additional twenty. If it wasn't, the player who issued the challenge earned twenty points, the challenged player did not receive points for the word and had to subtract twenty points from their score.

"Fine, then Dictionary Challenge issued," I say, arching my eyebrows.

Patrick smiles, as I pick up the dictionary and turn to the A section. I flip a few pages and then move my eyes downward, scanning the words. I feel my brow furrow. Damn him. I lift my gaze, only to find that his smile has grown into one of smugness. I eye him over the dictionary.

"How did you know that-..."

"Ai was a three-toed sloth? Discovery Channel."

"Yeah, right. The only time you ever watch the Discovery Channel is to see the animals having sex." He laughs, as I add, "Because you're a pervert."

He grins. "Okay, okay. Back in college, my buddies and I used to play for money. I looked up a bunch of obscure words to use to help me."

"You mean you cheated."

He cocks his head. "I don't see how studying the dictionary to expand one's vocabulary constitutes cheating." I roll my eyes. "Don't be jealous of my expansive, impressive vocabulary, Robin."

I sigh, put the dictionary down, then adjust the scores. I look at my tiles, not liking my options. I have no vowels and besides, an X and Z, I have a V, W, Q, K, and a C. I scan the board, looking for something I can add onto. I smile as I find my spot. I pick up my C tile and place it in front of the word 'HEATER'.

He smirks and shakes his head. I pick up my pen to write my score down as he immediately makes his move. I raise my head and look at his word. I point the pen cap at it.

"You can't do that. 'Fiji' is a proper noun. Nothing with capitals is allowed."

"It's allowed."

I let out a groan. He knows it's not allowed and is only doing it to bug me.

"Patrick, you know it's against the rules."

"I know no such thing. Read me the rule that says that."

I shake my head. "No, because everybody knows that rule. We've been through this before, in fact."

"Robin, just read me the part of the instructions that says it."

"Read it yourself," I snap.

His jaw tightens. "The instructions are closer to you."

I pick up the instructions and fling them across the table at him. He's not ready and it hits him in the face, before falling into his lap. I don't bother trying to stifle my laughter.

He lets out a little sigh, picks the instructions up, and then reaches across the table, handing me them. "Will you just read it, please?"

A breath escapes my lips. "What, you can't read? How did you ever make it through medical school?"

He licks at his lips in frustration and says tightly, "Please just read it."

I let out an exaggerated sigh and pull it from his grip. I then flip it over to find the section stating the rules.

I find the rule and begin reading it allowed, as his eyes focus on me, "Any words found in a standard dictionary are permitted except those capitalized, unless your gorgeous, thoughtful, charming boyfriend wants a creative way to surprise you with a trip to Fiji." My eyes widen as I read the rest of the rule, my voice trailing off.

I look closely at the sheet and realize that a piece of typed paper had been pasted over the rest of the real rule and then a copy had been made.

I raise my eyes up to him and he smiles at me. "Keep reading."

I feel tears well up in my eyes as I look at the amazing man before me. I then look back down and continue reading. "Number 20. Spend New Year's in an exotic location...with your gorgeous, thoughtful, charming boyfriend."

I shake my head at him. "I can't believe you did this. I mean, surprising me this way."

He laughs. "Of course, you had to be a pain in the ass about it."

I get up out of my seat and walk around the table to his side. His hands dart out and encircle my waist. He pulls me onto his lap and I look down at him.

"Thank you. It was very sweet." I then give him a kiss on the lips. When I pull back I shake my head, "But we don't have anymore-..."

"Vacation days. It's almost the first of the year, so I asked Alan to give us an advance on our vacation days."

I raise my eyebrows. "When you say asked you don't actually mean blackmail like my father did, right?"

He laughs. "No, blackmail is what I had to use to get him to loan me the Quartermaine jet."

My eyes grow big and I slap his chest. "You better be joking!"

He grins at me. "Relax. Alan offered it."

"He did? Why?"

"I don't know. I guess he must like me," he says, lowering his eyes.

I furrow my brow. There's got to be more to that story, but, at the moment, I don't care. All I care about is spending New Year's in Fiji with the man I love.

---

Patrick shakes his head, as he takes in the interior of the jet. "Man, these people know how to live."

I smile. "Tell me about it."

He flops down onto the couch, then grabs my waist and pulls me to him. I straddle his legs, as I fall onto his lap.

He brings his hand up and cups my cheek. "Can you still be accepted into the Mile High Club if it takes place on a jet or does it have to be commercial and in a bathroom?"

I arch my eyebrows, grinning, "Hmm, I'll have to consult the requirements to be sure."

He chuckles and then guides my lips down to his. My fingers immediately move to the buttons of his shirt and I begin undoing them, as his lips trail down my neck. I feel his hands move to the bottom of my knit top. I'm just about to pull back and help him remove it, when we hear a familiar male voice.

"Whoa! Get a room!"

I abruptly tear my lips away from Patrick's, as he raises his head from my neck. We turn to look in the direction of the voice, our mouths dropping open at the sight of Dillon and Lulu.

Lulu places her hands over her face. "My virgin eyes!"

Dillon laughs at that, as I groan and crawl off of Patrick's lap and he begins to button his shirt. I walk over to Dillon and Lulu.

"What are you two doing here?"

Dillon gestures to us. "Hey, it's my family's jet. What are you two doing here?"

Patrick comes to stand by my side. "Alan said we could use it."

Dillon glances at Lulu. "Yeah...well...grandfather said we could use it."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Edward said you and Lulu, two people still in their teens with a penchant for getting into trouble just in Port Charles, could use his jet?"

Dillon looks down at the ground. "Uh, yeah."

"I'm not buying it."

Lulu bites her lips. "Okay, we found out you guys were borrowing the jet to go down to Fiji and we really wanted to go some place cool for New Year's so we sorta kinda stowed away."

I glance at Patrick who blows out a breath. So much for spending New Year's alone with him.

The truth is, I really like Dillon and Lulu. As much as I wish, Dillon's relationship with Georgie had survived, I think he and Lulu are a good match. Dillon and my cousin did everything they could to make their relationship work, but it just wasn't meant to be. Lulu and Dillon have always been great friends and have just recently started to explore being more.

But as much as I like them, I was looking forward to being with just Patrick. I would consider ditching Lulu and Dillon the moment we get there, but I'm pretty sure they would just end up getting into serious trouble. We'll have to keep an eye on them.

Dillon waves a hand. "Don't worry. Once we land, you guys won't see us again until it's time to get back on this jet. We will leave you alone so you can...you know...resume activities."

Patrick nods. "Sounds good to me."

I hit Patrick's arm and say through gritted teeth. "We can't do that. They'll get into trouble."

Dillon gestures to us. "Okay, first of all, from what I've heard, you two are the ones who get in trouble on your little list adventures. Maybe Lulu and I should keep an eye on you."

Lulu puts her hands on her hips and smiles. "Yeah. Two words: Ken and Barbie."

Dillon looks at her and whispers, "That's actually three words if you count the 'and'."

"I wasn't counting the 'and'," she states, eyes focused on us.

Dillon nods and jerks his thumb at Lulu, "Yeah, two words. Good point, Lulu. Thank you."

Patrick and I exchange a look before I narrow my eyes at them. "We're two grown adults. So we can do what-..."

Dillon shakes his head. "Hey, whoa. We're both adults. Legal adults. I've already been married and divorced, which, by the way, neither of you has experienced yet. Not that I want you to experience the divorce thing, but I did marriage, so I've got life experience on my side. Plus, I'm in college. People in college go to places all over the world all the time."

Patrick smiles wistfully. "Junior year in college I went to Cancun with three of my friends for Spring Break. Ended up in an alley naked, all of my belongings stolen. Good times."

I raise my eyebrows. Apparently, his vacation mishaps started early in his life. I wonder if he forced his buddies to take a bus home to save face. 

I stomp on Patrick's foot. He yelps and throws me a glare. 

"You're not helping!" I growl.

"What? It was a cautionary tale."

"Not when you end it with, 'Good times'."

"Come on, Robin. I was young and stupid. It was one of those mistakes everyone needs to make once."

"Ending up penniless and naked in an alley?" I say, eyebrows arched.

Dillon smiles. "He's right. How can we learn if we do not make mistakes?"

Lulu nods in agreement. "Exactly. I, for one, plan on making many mistakes in order to learn as much as possible. I am that dedicated."

I sigh and shrug my shoulders. "Fine, then we'll go our separate ways once we get there."

Dillon smiles and flops down in a chair. Lulu then does the same.

He waves his hands. "Pretend like we're not even here." He pauses and then adds, gesturing between himself and Lulu, "Except for the about to have sex stuff because that would just be really uncomfortable for us."

Patrick and I sink down onto the couch.

---

Playing charades with Tracy Quartermaine's son and Luke Spencer's daughter on a jet headed to what was supposed to be a romantic getaway to an exotic location with the man I love is not my idea of fun.

But here we are anyway. It was somehow decided that it would be boys versus girls.

"Movie," Patrick states flatly, eyes blankly focused on his teammate.

Dillon nods and holds up three fingers.

"Three words."

He taps two fingers on his forearm.

"Second word," Patrick says.

Dillon makes a circle with his finger above his head, like a halo.

"Uh, angel."

Dillon shakes his head. He presses his hands together and looks upward.

"Praying," Patrick says.

Dillon groans and waves his hands. He chews on his bottom lip for a moment, then points at me. My brow furrows, as Patrick looks at me.

"Doctor. Woman." He pauses and then adds softly, "Beautiful."

I feel my face flush, as Lulu says, "Aw! I mean, totally cheesy, but still 'aw!'"

Dillon rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He holds one finger up.

"First word."

Then taps his forearm.

"Second part."

Dillon walks along the length of the jet, pretending to whistle. He then stops and makes a motion like he's casting a fishing line.

Patrick's forehead creases. "Fishing."

Dillon points to the floor.

"Ground."

Dillon throws his hands up in the air. "Forget it. He'll never get it."

Patrick gestures to him, "Not with those clues I won't."

Dillon's eyes grow wide and his mouth drops open. "Are you kidding me? Those were excellent clues. Top notch!" He looks at Lulu. "I bet you know what it was, don't you?"

Lulu smiles. "Boondock Saints."

Patrick shrugs. "Never heard of it."

I look at Dillon and I'm almost sure he's going to fall to the floor. "Wh...What? You've never heard of 'Boondock Saints'? Two vigilante brothers seeking vengeance against the Russian mob. It's classic. Willem DaFoe, Sean Patrick Flannery, Billy-..."

Patrick and I stare blankly at him.

He groans and rubs a hand down his face, "Wow, that is just sad."

Patrick gestures to Dillon. "What was that fishing thing?"

"I was on a dock. Boondock. Come on, how much time do the citizens of Port Charles spend on the docks? That should have been easy!"

"But I never see anyone fish there," Patrick argues.

"Well, it's a little hard to show meaningful conversations, tearful confessions, or vicious arguments all by my lonesome and without the benefit of words," Dillon counters.

Patrick points at me, "Well, what did Robin have to do with it then?"

Dillon winces at me. "Yeah, well, don't take this the wrong way, but I've heard Carly refer to you as St. Robin so..."

Patrick chuckles and I throw him an icy glare. He clears his throat and averts his eyes.

---

Hours later, we arrive in Fiji. All four of us take a cab to the hotel. Patrick checks us in and then Dillon and Lulu walk up to the counter.

"Yeah, so, we need one room, two beds," Dillon says.

"I'm sorry, sir. We're booked solid."

"So there's nothing at all?"

"I'm sorry."

I look at Patrick, but he shakes his head, holding his finger up. "No, no way. Absolutely not. Robin, I want to be with you. Only you. We just did this, remember? Last time we had to share a room with other people, I got more action in a week from your father than I did from you."

I lean in close to him. "Patrick, we can't just leave them without a place to stay."

"There are other hotels."

"There's not another one for fifteen miles."

Dillon and Lulu walk over to us.

"So, they're booked solid. But, not to worry, because we're going to camp out on the beach."

Lulu nods, feigning enthusiasm.

"For a whole week?" I ask, brow wrinkling.

Patrick smiles and puts his arm around me. "Sounds cozy. Have fun."

He tries to guide me away, but I don't budge. I shake my head. "You guys can't camp out on the beach for a whole week."

Dillon nods. "Sure we can. We've got survival skills up the wazoo. Lulu's a Spencer, so enough said there and I'm a Quartermaine...which means...absolutely nothing, unless betrayal, manipulation, and deceit can somehow be of use."

I shake my head, as Patrick drops his eyes to the ground, and lets out a little groan. "Look, Patrick booked us a suite. There's plenty of room for you guys."

Lulu's eyes light up. "A suite? Really?"

Patrick smiles insincerely. "Yes, really. I figured I should make sure we have enough room, just in case we decide to start a camp for wayward teens."

I hit Patrick's chest. Dillon smiles widely. "Well, in that case, I don't see how we could refuse."

---

"Oh my God! Look at this place!" Lulu practically screams, as she surveys the suite.

It's actually divided into three rooms. The bathroom, the bedroom and a living area. The living area has marble floors, two huge, overstuffed leather couches, and a big flat screen television.

"Look at this T.V.!" Dillon says, as runs over to it and embraces it, squeezing his eyes closed. 

Patrick and I wander into the bedroom, which, thankfully, has a door separating it from the rest of the suite. It's just as breathtaking as the rest of the suite. It has a large four poster bed with a red silk canopy draped across it. There's a balcony that overlooks the ocean.

I turn to him and smile. "Wow, you really went all out."

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. "I sure did."

"This must have cost a fortune. Can I ask what warrants such extravagance?"

Patrick lowers his gaze from mine. "Nothing. There doesn't have to be a reason to treat you like this."

I eye him. He's behaving a little strangely. Something's not quite right.

"Whoa!" Lulu says, running into the bedroom, and causing Patrick and I to pull apart. "The bathroom has one of those water fountain things!"

I chuckle. "A bidet."

"Yeah, that's it." She looks at Patrick and grins, "I gotta say, Robin is one lucky woman. I mean, not only are you hot, but you're a doctor and you treat her like this. Never would have guessed it after seeing you be such a pig with her evil ex-step-monster in the Markham Islands. No offense."

Patrick and I laugh, as Lulu bounds out of the bedroom. I turn back to Patrick.

"The Markham Islands. Doesn't that seem like a lifetime ago?"

He nods. "A lot's changed since then."

I smile. "Yeah, you're not a pig anymore...at least, not as consistently."

He grins and brings a hand to his chest, "Ouch! Is that how you thank me for all of this?"

I shake my head and come closer to him, as I lift myself up on my toes and bring my lips near his. "No, this is," I whisper, as I wrap my arms around his neck and cover his mouth with mine.

"Whoa, twice in one day. Awkward," I vaguely hear Dillon mutter behind us, but I don't pull back. He goes on, "Uh, you know, if we're going to be living together for a week, we should probably think about setting some ground rules-..."

Patrick pulls away from me just enough to growl, "Get out," before capturing my lips with his again.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Dillon mumbles and I hear him pad out of the room.

---

"Okay," Dillon says, standing in the middle of the room and holding up his hands, as Patrick and I reenter the living area some time later. "As we all know, tomorrow is New Year's Eve. Such an occasion and this seriously rockin' room calls for a celebration. Nothing big, just something intimate. You know, a few...or fifty...of the natives. I hear Fijian women are gorgeous." Lulu rolls her eyes and throws a pillow at Dillon. He swallows and stammers, "I...uh...really just want them to fill me on their fascinating culture." 

Patrick shakes his head. "No parties. Robin and I are spending New Year's Eve alone."

Dillon points downward. "Here?"

Patrick shrugs. "Not necessarily, but you're not throwing a party here either way."

Lulu stands up, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine, there are plenty of ways for us to have fun outside of this room. I say we get started right now."

She then grabs Dillon's hand and drags him to the door.

Patrick and I watch them leave. I then turn to him and smile. "So, what do you have planned for tomorrow?"

He simply waggles his eyebrows.

---

The next morning, Patrick and I emerge from our bedroom to find Lulu and Dillon enjoying a breakfast feast.

Dillon gestures with his knife to his Belgium waffle and speaks through a mouthful, "You guys have got to try this waffle. It's covered in strawberries and whipped cream. Seriously, it's like heaven on a plate."

Patrick's eyes widen, as he takes in the assortment of food. There are plates of bacon, sausage, eggs, stuffed French toast, pancakes, toast, and hash browns.

Lulu lets out a little moan of pleasure as she chomps on her French toast. "Oh my God, I want to marry this French toast and have its children."

I look at Patrick. His face has grown a bright red, he's flexing his jaw, and he has his hands planted firmly on his hips.

He finally speaks, "So, tell me. Exactly who is paying for all of this?"

Dillon and Lulu's forks freeze mid-air, their mouths hanging open, as they turn to glance at him.

Dillon stammers, "Oh, uh, well, I guess we got a little carried away. I mean, that room service menu is just so tempting...and addicting. It should come with, like, a warning label. We ordered one thing and then, before you know it, we just couldn't stop. But that's no excuse. We will pay you back."

I wave my hand at them. "Don't worry about it."

Patrick's head snaps in my direction. "Excuse me?"

I look up at him. "Come on, we're going to eat it, too. They got a little carried away. There's no reason to make them feel bad about it."

"I think my bill at the end of our stay will prove otherwise."

---

I look at myself in the mirror, applying a gold necklace with a heart of diamonds that Patrick gave me for Christmas. I see him come up behind me in the mirror, a smile upon his lips.

He wraps his arms around my waist and kisses the back of my neck, before bringing his lips to my ear and whispering, "I know you're probably getting sick of hearing this by now, but you're beautiful."

Those words coming from his lips still send shivers down my spine and I can't imagine a time when they won't.

I turn in his embrace and snake my arms around his neck, looking up into his eyes. "I'll never tire of hearing that from you. Every time you say it, I know you really mean it. I can feel how much you love me."

His smile morphs into a playful grin. "You know, I have other more entertaining ways of making you feel how much I love you."

I chuckle softly. "Oh, I know."

His fingertips move to the delicate straps of my blue silk dress. He fingers them and then begins to slide them down my shoulders. I shake my head and gracefully slip away from him, as I grab ahold of his hand.

"Not with Dillon and Lulu in the other room, Patrick. Plus, we have a celebration to get to."

He lets out a sigh, but his eyes twinkle as I backpedal out of the room and into the living area. 

Dillon and Lulu move their attention from the television to us.

Lulu smiles, her eyes scanning Patrick's body appreciatively. He looks even more gorgeous than usual, all decked out in a charcoal suit and royal blue button down shirt that's open at the collar. She glances at me for a moment, then nods her approval.

"Wow, you two look great. They make such a cute couple, don't you think, Dillon?"

Dillon nods. "Yeah, they really do. They remind me of another cute couple...what were their names?" he asks, snapping his fingers.

Lulu cocks her head. "Sonny and Cher?"

"No, no, not them, although with the height difference I could see where you'd get that."

Patrick and I exchange an amused glance at them. These two always seem to be putting on their own private comedy routine.

"Demi and Ashton?"

"No."

"Tom and Katie?"

"No...and ew."

Dillon suddenly claps his hands and then points at us. "Ken and Barbie!"

Patrick and I sigh and roll our eyes, as Lulu giggles.

"Yes, that's it!" she says, slamming her hand down on the glass coffee table.

Patrick purses his lips, as he slips his hands into his pants. "You done?"

Dillon looks upward, as he ponders this. "Uh...yeah, we're good."

Patrick takes a step toward them, noting how they're both sitting there in sweats. "So, you guys don't have plans tonight?"

Dillon and Lulu exchange a look. Lulu shrugs. "Nah, just going to hang out here, watch some movies...not order room service."

I raise my eyebrows. "What happened to finding fun outside of this room. I thought you guys wanted to really do it up right in Fiji for New Year's. You could have hung out and watched movies in Port Charles."

Dillon points the remote at the television. "Not on that television we couldn't. I hope they get Dick Clark down here, because his head is going to look huge."

Patrick eyes them suspiciously, then shakes his head. "Do you think we're stupid?"

Lulu shrugs her shoulders, replying matter-of-factly, "Not really. I mean, you probably have to be pretty smart to become a doctor."

I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. I glance over at Patrick and he resembles a disapproving father, trying catch his children in a lie. His brow's furrowed, jaw tense. He looks like Walt Cleaver whenever the Beave got into trouble.

Patrick leans toward them, his voice lowering. "I invented the 'I'm just going to hang out and watch movies' bit. Ask my dad about it sometime. I threw legendary parties in high school. I was on a first name basis with the cops on our route."

Dillon nods. "That's a nice story, very nostalgic. But I don't see how it applies to us. You said no parties and you seemed very firm on the subject. We took it to heart," he says, patting his chest.

Patrick sighs. "As soon as we walk out that door, you guys are going to whip that clothes off and the party will start in no time at all."

Lulu looks at me. "He has trust issues, doesn't he?"

I hook my arm through Patrick's. I know he's right, but I am not about to spend my New Year's arguing with Lulu and Dillon or chaperoning them.

"Come on, let's go. We have plans, remember?"

He lets out a sigh and offers them one last piercing look, before allowing me to guide him out the door.

Once outside, he blows out a breath. "They are going to destroy that room and run up a huge room service bill."

I grab ahold of his collar and force him to meet my eyes. "You can spend all night worrying about what's happening in that room or you can spend all night focused on me. The choice is yours."

He licks at his lips slowly, a smile softening his expression. "Well, that's no choice at all."

---

Patrick and I walk hand-in-hand along the beach, as the warm breeze rustles our clothing. We stroll in a comfortable silence for a long time, until we reach a little sandy secluded cove. Patrick guides me along and then I stop suddenly at the sight before me. There's a blanket spread out on the sand with a gourmet picnic dinner laid out on top of it. A dozen torches surround the area, giving it a romantic glow.

I turn to Patrick and smile. "This is amazing."

"I think you meant that I'm amazing."

I chuckle and nod, "That, too."

"This is a private part of the beach. I rented it for the entire week."

"You can do that?"

"Apparently." His voice lowers, "We are completely alone."

I bring my hand up to cup his cheek. "I can't imagine a better way to ring in a New Year."

He walks over to the blanket and sits down. He then reaches up and pulls me down to him. I settle in between his legs and lean my head against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and rests his chin on my head. 

There's incredible food and expensive champagne surrounding us, but we pay it no attention. We're just lost in the moment.

"You know," he says quietly, breaking the silence, "last year with you was the first New Year's Eve I ever spent with anyone."

I raise my eyebrows and look up at him. "Really?"

"I'd sit home alone, drinking beer and watching old movies."

"Why?" I ask, my eyes scanning his face.

He shrugs his shoulders. "I just couldn't face ringing in a New Year with some woman whose name I wouldn't remember the next day, never mind the next year. It just never seemed right. I guess I kind of bought into that whole spend New Year's Eve with the person you want to spend the year with." He brings his thumb and forefinger up to my chin, his voice softening. "Last year, I finally found her...and I didn't even realize I'd been searching."

I feel the tears begin to sting my eyes, as he lowers his lips to mine. My hand reaches up and cups the back of his head, as I deepen the kiss.

When we separate, he licks at his lips nervously, his eyes growing serious. "Robin, this past year and a half with you has been amazing. More than I could have ever dreamt of, if I ever allowed myself to dream of such a thing. You make everyday more incredible than the last."

I feel my chest begin to tighten and I suddenly can't breathe. The piercing look in his eyes is enough to make my heart start to hammer in my chest.

He goes on, "I can't imagine spending New Year's with anyone else for the rest of my life. And I want to know whenever I ring in a New Year that you will be with me the following year to do the same."

He swallows hard and then takes a deep breath. It feels like time has frozen and everything is happening in slow motion. I can't even form a coherent thought.

He continues, looking right into my eyes, "I guess what I'm trying to say is-..."

All of the sudden, the cell phone we rented starts to ring.

Patrick lets out a groan, squeezes his eyes shut, and mumbles. "You've got to be kidding me."

I want to tell him not to answer it. I want to tell him to finish what he was saying. I want to tell him to throw the damn thing in the ocean so that we can return to this perfect moment, where we are the only two people on earth. This perfect moment when all of my dreams may finally be about to come true.

But we both know we can't ignore it. Lulu and Dillon are the only ones with the number and something could be wrong.

He looks at me sadly, as he lightly runs his thumb across my lower lip. "I have-..."

"I know," I say softly.

With a heavy sigh, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out the phone. He flips it open and snaps, "What?" He then squeezes his eyes closed again, as he listens to the person on the other end. "We'll be right there."

He clicks the cell phone shut and looks down at me.

"They're in trouble, aren't they?"

"Oh, yeah." His features soften as he looks down at me. "I am so sorry about this. I wanted tonight to be perfect."

I smile and run my thumb across his jaw. "It was."

He nods, but can't hide the sadness and disappointment in his eyes. And I'm left to wonder what else that perfect moment was going to hold. 

Patrick stands and then extends his hand to me. I slip it into his and we leave our private heaven.

---

My eyes widen as Patrick pulls into the police station.

"Jail? They're in jail?"

Patrick tilts his head, as he pulls the keys out of the ignition. "I've got to hand it to them. No fake jails for them. No, they go right to the real thing."

He gets out of the car and I follow a moment later. We enter the station and inform the clerk who we are here to see. He leads us down a short hallway until a small cell comes into view. Dillon and Lulu are sitting on a bench, their heads bowed. When they hear us coming, their heads snap up and they jump off the bench, running to the bars.

"Oh thank God you're here!" Lulu says.

Dillon manages a crooked grin. "When you guys hear this you are going to laugh." We fix him with icy glares and his grin fades away. "Okay, maybe not laugh, but chuckle. And probably not for a couple of days or weeks, maybe even years. But eventually you will see the humor in the situation."

Patrick clenches his jaw. "I doubt it."

Lulu gnaws on her lower lip. "It really wasn't our fault."

"I've used that one a time or two," Patrick says.

"No, seriously, it wasn't," she says pleadingly.

"Why don't you tell us what happened?" I say.

Lulu nods and takes a deep breath. "Okay, so after you guys left. These people just starting showing up for a party and we were like, hey, what's going on?"

Patrick holds up a hand. "You're insulting our intelligence again."

She sighs. "Okay, so we may have spread the word that we were having a small get together. You know, ring in the New Year, make some new friends-..."

"Get thrown in jail," Patrick adds.

Lulu groans. "All right, so we're having a good time. There's music playing, some people are dancing. It's all just innocent stuff."

"Until..." I prod.

She grimaces. "Until this bellboy, I don't even know his name, tells me about Kava Kava. It's a traditional Fijian drink and they usually drink it during festivals. So, I'm thinking it's New Year's and we should have some of that."

Dillon's head is bowed the entire time as she relays the story. "Anyway, he goes in search of some and then comes back. He tells us of the customary way of drinking it. You clap three times, drink it from half a coconut shell, then clap another three times."

"Okay," Patrick says slowly. "Can you get to the part about how you ended up in jail?"

"Well, the bellboy failed to tell us just how strong Kava Kava is. Apparently, it's so strong it can make you go numb. Well, Dillon obviously didn't realize this and he really liked it, so he drank another and then another. And before we knew it his whole face was numb. I mean, he literally couldn't move one facial muscle. So, understandably, he started to panic. He gestured to his face and I realized what happened. I started to yell that someone needed to call for help, but the bellboy said it was nothing and would wear off in a little while. But Dillon wouldn't listen and it was taking a really long time to wear off. He started to run around the room, hysterical. He knocked things over and started banging his fists against the wall, hoping to get somebody to help him. Instead, hotel security came up. They said they got a disturbance call from next door. They noticed the coconut shell and inspected it. Turns out, the bellboy had slipped a little something into it to enhance its already strong effects and make them last longer. An illegal little something. When I tried to tell security that it was him, not us, I realized he had disappeared. So they called the police and we were hauled in here."

Patrick sighs and shakes his head. I look at Dillon. "Are you okay?" I ask.

"I've gotten all of the feeling back in my face. Now I know what Joan Rivers must feel like everyday of her life."

Patrick lets out a little groan, saying sarcastically, "Wow, that was a funny story."

Dillon shrugs. "Maybe not ha ha funny and I'll admit that while my face was temporarily paralyzed I didn't see the humor in it either. But now that I've had some time to think about it and the feeling's been restored to my face, I can laugh," he then pauses and chuckles weakly.

Lulu manages a smile. "Learn from our mistakes, right? I mean, now I know accepting strange drinks from bellboys whose names you don't know is a bad idea."

I arch my eyebrow. "You didn't know that already?"

She moves her eyes from mine and smiles at Patrick. "Young and stupid, right? Come on, at least we still have all of our clothes and our personal items. And we're not in an alley."

Patrick fixes her with a glare. "Yeah, jail's much better."

I glance down at my watch and look up at Patrick. "It's three minutes till midnight."

Lulu's eyes sparkle and she bounces up and down, as she gestures to the door. "Okay, hurry, tell them to let us out. I don't want to be in this cell when the clock strikes midnight."

Dillon nods at the door. "Yup, open up."

Patrick levels them with a look. "Maybe you should have thought about that before lying to us."

Lulu rolls her eyes. "Oh my God, one of the benefits of having an absentee father is that I don't have listen to lectures. Please, spare me."

Patrick shakes his head. "No way. Your father may let you get away with whatever you want, but I won't."

I look at Patrick. He seems to enjoy letting teens stew in jail. And he's oddly sexy when he's authoritative.

"Wow, you're going to be a hard ass with our kids, aren't you?"

He smiles slightly. "Apparently. Who knew?"

Dillon wraps his fingers around the bars and sticks his face in between, giving up his best puppy dog look, complete with lower lip covering his upper.

"Please? Come on, lesson learned. Starting the New Year behind bars would seriously suck. It would be a bad omen. You can't do that to us, man."

Patrick sticks his hand through the bars and pats Dillon's shoulder, as a grin crosses his lips. "Oh, I don't know. I think you're going to laugh about this. Probably not for a couple of days or weeks, maybe even years. But eventually you will see the humor in the situation." 

Patrick then takes my hand, as we turn our backs on them.

"Come on, guys!" Lulu pleads.

"This is so not cool!" Dillon screams. "I thought you guys were cool! I thought this was the start of something awesome! A real bond! We could have been, like, the new generation of the Four Musketeers! Except we would have been way more awesome! What about all for one and one for all? Come on, guys!"

I look at Patrick, as we come to stand by the clerk's desk. "Please tell me you don't plan on leaving them in there for five hours like you did with your cousins."

Patrick shakes his head. "Nah, give them five minutes. Hopefully, those will be the worst five minutes they experience this year."

I smile sadly. "I'm sorry this is how we're ringing in the New Year. I know how much thought and effort you put into this night." I pause and then add softly, "I know you wanted it to be special."

He nods, but manages a smile, as he brings his lips to mine. "I'm with you. That makes it special."

He then pulls me into his arms and kisses my forehead.

"This is not funny, guys!" We hear Lulu and Dillon yell from down the hall.

Patrick and I simply chuckle. We then look up at the clock on the wall behind the clerk's desk and watch as the hands strike midnight. We turn back to each other, our eyes locking.

He smiles as he leans down to me and whispers, "Happy New Year, baby."

He stops the smile that begins to spread across my lips, as his mouth covers mine.

---  
Up Next: To Do # 15 - Send a Message in a Bottle.  
,.,


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